


Rise of the Renegades

by obsidianfr3ak



Series: The origins of the Renegades [2]
Category: Renegades - Marissa Meyer
Genre: M/M, Other, The answer is, am i going to stop writing about the OG renegades?, am i self proyecting on six character at once???, and sad, because I say so, but fun!, but since you dont give it to me, humon - Freeform, i have to do it myself, i really want more OG Renegades content you guys, n o, this is kinda gay, w e i r d, y e s, you don't?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidianfr3ak/pseuds/obsidianfr3ak
Summary: Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn't know it yet.
Relationships: Hugh Everhart | Captain Chromium/Simon Westwood | The Dread Warden, OG Renegades
Series: The origins of the Renegades [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929595
Comments: 13
Kudos: 11





	1. The lost voice

**Author's Note:**

> This a direct continuation of my other fic called The Origins. I highly recommend reading that one before jumping into this one! But if you're a freaking punk, then... welcome to my fic lol  
> Now, hello!!! I said I'd post this fic before August ended, and... well, it didn't go quite as planned, but here we are in the future and it's bright! I hope to be uploading quite frequently, I already have the whole thing plotted:))) the first year of this guys as the Renegades. Yay c:  
> Without further to do, let's get started.

**Age of Anarchy**

**Year 10. Month 10**

_Kick me under the table all you want,_

_I won’t shut up._

**Simon**

It was quarter past eight when their father told Simon and Sophie dinner was served. His sister had her nose stuck in a gothic novel that used language too complex for an eight-year-old girl to understand, and his father sipped his dark coffee, looking through yesterday's newspaper. Simon pretended to be reading the first volume of T _he Scarlet Enchantress and the Phantom Feline_ for the eighth time, but really, he was completely absorbed in his thoughts.

He had never hated dinners at his house as much as he did at that moment.

The worst thing is that it had not always been this way. He was still able to remember the controversial topics Laura brought up at the table. _“Dad, what do you think about what the mayor did today?” “Mom, did you hear about yesterday's protest?” “What are we going to do about Ace Anarchy?”_

His mother almost always agreed with Laura's opinion. His father, on the other hand, made jokes that were inappropriate for the situation. Even his youngest sister participated, while in her mother's womb. Simon joked that when she was born, she would be as “loud and annoying” as Laura. His parents burst out laughing and Laura gave him a bad look.

“Don't call me loud and annoying, Simon,” his older sister scolded. “I am the only ray of light in the midst of anarchy.”

She may have been joking. But for him, she was.

All the light left their house along with them. Mom died giving birth to her third daughter after she started bleeding out and there was no time to get to a hospital. Laura said that she had never seen her father cry like that day. All he said was, “Gabriela, oh, Gabriela, my love, please wake up.”

She didn't wake up and he never laughed again.

Laura. His older sister was stocky, with curly hair and olive skin like his. She had a smile that could please even the saddest of hearts.

The light in the midst of anarchy.

What the hell had happened to Laura?

What the hell had happened to Simon?

But most of all, what the hell had happened to their dinners?

Not that he wasn't used to it. In fact, he was so used to dining in silence that when Hugh invited him over to his house for lunch, the fact that he and his aunt kept talking and asking questions struck him as strange. 

So much light inhibited him.

He learned (a little the hard way) to appreciate silence.

However, now all he wanted was for someone to speak. Someone saying something to get him out of his thoughts for good. No matter what kind of conversation it was, Simon was willing to talk about the fucking weather as long as he didn't keep asking himself the same question over and over.

_“But what if we did?”_

Both of them. Beat Ace Anarchy.

_Please._

And yes, it was ridiculous. Simon had even laughed and told Hugh to stop being an idiot, believing that the conversation would end there. But Hugh spent the rest of the afternoon talking about it, so convinced, so sure of his words, that Simon began to hear inside his head a voice that he thought he had lost a long time ago.

_But what if you joked during dinner again?_

_But what if you gave your opinion when the teachers ask you to?_

_But what if you were the light in the middle of the anarchy?_

He shot a glance at Sophie. She was the complete opposite of Simon (and Laura): Sophie had pale skin and straight hair, like their father. No one would have ever believed they were siblings if it weren't for the fact that they had the same dark eyes.

He wondered if she had that voice inside her head. Probably she did. She was a kid. Kids used to be more gullible about that kind of thing, right?

Perhaps it was a voice that you lost over the years.

Although he doubted Hugh had lost his voice. Simon would be jealous of him if it weren't for the fact that the voice was way too annoying.

He had to shut it up somehow.

Simon took a deep breath.

Then, for the first time in eight years, he spoke to his father during dinner.

“Dad, do you think I could defeat Ace Anarchy?”

His father stopped reading at that point. He looked up at him as if Simon were pointing a gun at him. Sophie kicked him under the table.

He knew it immediately. He shouldn't have done that.

“Give me that comic,” his father ordered.

Simon obeyed and handed it to his father. He started flipping through the pages frantically, looking for a single mention of Ace Anarchy in it, like he did with all the comics Simon brought home.

He didn't know how to feel about it. By this time in his life, John Westwood should know that Simon always read the same comics, which had been previously authorized by him. There was no “propaganda” in them. But, of course, it wasn’t like his father paid attention to him. (That, and that Simon never read the last volume in front of him, in which Ace Anarchy was the main villain. If his father saw it, he would go crazy.)

The man wouldn't even let him read superhero comics until a few years ago. Laura used to be a superhero fan, but when she died, his dad carried all her and his mother's things up to the little attic they had. His father wouldn't let him get close to them for any reason. He assured him that comics were full of dangerous propaganda, that they would put ideas into his head, and that they were boring and predictable stories anyway.

Although he believed him, he couldn't help picking up a copy of _Wonder Man_ from a counter the first time he and Hugh broke into a store. Simon thought he was going to be happy. He knew how much his friend liked superheroes. However, it was the opposite of that. Hugh was very nervous and told him that they had to return it and apologize to the owner. But they couldn't return without having to confess their other crimes as well.

Simon could barely keep standing, and although Hugh didn't want to accept it, he couldn't continue for long either. Their families were also starving. 

They needed that food.

In the end, they decided to keep it. They read it that same afternoon, in Simon’s basement, while eating a pack of rancid cookies. For some reason beyond his understanding, Hugh told his aunt what they had done and she, instead of getting angry, told him that he would give him a little money every two weeks to buy a new comic.

“Now we can buy our own comics, Simon!” he exclaimed.

And that was great, but Simon couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Miss Everhart needed to improve her parenting methods.

Simon kept his hobby a secret, even when his father gave him an old copy of _Wonder Man_ because he considered that “he was mature enough to read it”. Ironically, it was the same number that he had stolen years ago. He didn't have the heart to tell him he had already read it, and he didn't like it that much.

His father gave him back his comic with a sigh. “Where did you get the idea that you could beat Ace Anarchy?” he asked.

Sophie looked at him curiously. She kicked him under the table again, as if to say, _"Come on, tell us."_

Of course, Simon wasn't going to tell his father that Hugh was the one who came up with the idea. He already didn’t like him. But he wasn't going to lie and say it was his idea, either.

“It was just— curiosity.” And he felt his body turn slightly translucent with embarrassment.

His father's expression softened. “What a peculiar curiosity you have, son.”

Simon just shrugged.

His sister's eyes gleamed peculiarly. _Oh no._

“Dad,” Sophie called.

He kicked her under the table. Sophie didn't flinch and kicked him harder. It hurt Simon so much that he couldn't stop her before she asked, “How were things before anarchy?”

John tensed. And instinctively, Simon too.

Sophie was so young. She was the same age Simon was when Laura died. Back then, he didn't understand how things worked in that house, but now he did.

_Linda Sophia, we don't talk about dead people in this house._

“We don't focus on the past, Sophie,” her father replied, squeezing the bridge of her nose affectionately, “it ruins our future—” he fixed her gaze on Simon— “because it distracts us from the present.”

Sophie pulled away, pretending to be upset about being treated like a little girl.

He wished he hadn't said anything. The first thing they said in eight years and it was stupid. He had completely ruined dinner.

Oh, but the voice was so strong. Simon was silent, but in his head, all he heard were screams of despair. _There is no future, John! The past has ruined it! The present sucks! That is the problem!_

_Someone has to do something!_

“Now go to sleep,” he ordered, picking up her plate. “Tomorrow is Monday and you have to go to school. Have nice dreams.”

“Dreams are for the weak.”

His father rolled his eyes and smiled at her. “Rest, vampire. You too, Simon.”

Sophie ran out of the dining room to the bathroom. Simon and she always fought about who was going to use it first when they were getting ready to sleep, but he didn't care at that moment. He had to do something first.

With translucent hands, he helped pick up the rest of the dishes. He put them in the sink and took the sponge to wash them. His father pushed him away without violence and whispered that he would take care of it.

That only made him feel worse.

“Sorry, Dad,” he whispered. “It was a dumb question.”

His father did not respond immediately. Every second of his silence was a second that the voice had to get louder and louder. _There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!_

“Don't worry, son,” he told him. “Seriously, no problem. Go to sleep.”

When he entered the room, his sister was under her covers on the top bunk, reading by flashlight and wearing a lacy nightgown that made her feel like “an evil queen”. She poked her head out from under the covers to see him enter and hissed at him. Was it a greeting? Was it a threat?

_Who knows._

He took out his jeans and got in his pajamas.

How did Sophie imagine the future?

_There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!_

On the wall, Simon had a picture of his mother sitting on a park bench, wearing a pink scarf. A five-year-old Laura was on her lap, eating a caramel apple with astonishing ferocity. He wished he had a more recent photo, but that was the only one he could save from when his father removed any remaining traces of his wife and daughter in the house.

How had they imagined the future?

He lay down on his bed and stared at the photo, feeling sleepy.

_There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!_

How did he envision the future?

It horrified him to realize that he had never asked himself that.

_Someone has to do something!_

Maybe someone should do something. But he knew that someone would not be Simon Westwood.

The voice insisted once more.

_But what if you would?_


	2. The stupidest plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! I hope you like it:)) I'll try to update each week, or more. Thank you for commenting, I appreciate it c:

_ You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time, _

_ but that's ok, I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine. _

_ I'm driving here I sit, cursing my government, _

_ for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement. _

**Hugh**

He had spent the whole night sketching the battle between Wonder Man and Ace Anarchy. It had been very tedious to be working without proper lighting. For a moment he believed that when morning came, his drawing would not look as good as he thought. However, the morning had come.

And it was perfect.

Although now that he was polishing the last details while waiting for classes to begin, he came across a question that kept him from concentrating.

Simon quietly walked into the classroom, as if he was afraid of bothering someone with his mere presence (although they literally were only ones there). He sat in the first seat in the row to his right. Simon hated sitting upfront because he said it only brought more attention to himself than he wanted to. However, Hugh couldn't sit anywhere else. His glasses weren't the best.

Also, it was strangely depressing to sit on the last row and see that of the forty tables in the room, only fifteen were filled. Twenty if it was a busy day. From the front, it was easier to ignore that more than half of the kids in his class had dropped out of school. 

But Hugh had enough of ignoring things.

“What color are Ace Anarchy’s eyes?” he asked Simon.

“Good morning to you too,” he replied sarcastically.

“Good Morning.” He took gray in one hand and blue in the other. “What color are Ace Anarchy's eyes?”

Simon looked carefully at the colors. “I don't know, gray? I feel like they are gray. I can't imagine him having blue eyes.”

Hugh agreed.

“What are you drawing?” Simon asked.

“Propaganda,” he replied with a mischievous smile.

“It looks good.”

“I’m a propaganda expert, indeed.” He grabbed his classroom chair and pushed it to the right next to Simon's. He would return it to its place when the professor entered. “Have you thought about what I told you about yesterday?”

He looked away. “No.”

He shook his head. Simon was lying. “I was being very serious, you know.”

“And I was too. Stop thinking bullshit,” and he smacked him on the back of the neck. “Or do I have to beat those ideas out of you, Wonder Man?”

Hugh hit him back, but in the arm. “Come on. I don’t believe it is bullshit.”

_ And I don't think you believe that either. _

“All right, but you believe many things. You believed in Santa Claus until very recently.” Simon started playing with a ball of crumpled paper that had been lying on the floor for a week. “When you told me ‘Simon, but it has all the logic in the world that Santa exists, he is a prodigy, like us ’ and I was like—"

“A part of me died that tragic day,” he said in a dramatic voice, one hand on his chest. “My childhood…”

“You were eleven years old. It was to save you from bullying. I was protecting you.” The door opened again and they both turned at the same time to see who it was. It was just a group of girls.  _ Good _ . “It's not like it helped that much though.”

He shrugged.

Neither Simon nor he had been spared from bullying during those years. All the schools in the district were mostly filled with non-prodigies because most of the prodigies were in gangs or hiding in their homes. The few who were still in school did their best not to cause problems and to go unnoticed. They were part of that last group since middle school.

However, the entire school found out about their powers when Simon got so nervous at a presentation that he disappeared in front of his entire class. Hugh tried to intervene but stood up so fast that he tripped over his backpack and hit his nose on the floor. He did not bleed or receive a single scratch. People were quick to connect the dots.

Obviously if one was a prodigy, the other one was too. 

Alter all, freaks stuck together. 

They thought high school was going to be different, but no. On the first day, an older boy caught Simon turning invisible intermittently in the bathroom while having a panic attack. A few hours later, a girl tried to stab Hugh with a pencil and all it did was break it as soon as it made contact with his skin.

“The next time you have a panic attack,” he told Simon on their way home, “tell me.”

“And the next time someone tries to stab you with a pencil, you stab them back.”

When you were a prodigy, it didn't matter if one believed in Santa or not. The mere fact of existing was enough to cause problems.

“At eleven you're still a kid,” Simon kicked him under the bench as he laughed. “Did you ever believe in Santa?”

“No. At my house the one who gave the presents was Baby Jesus,” he replied. “But I didn't believe in him either. How could a baby deliver all those gifts? His hands are too tiny”

Simon gave a light laugh, but Hugh couldn't even smile.

He toyed with the color blue. “Simon, did you ever believe in something?”

Simon bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at the ceiling. He took his sweet time thinking before replying, “I have believed in things.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Like what things?”

“Well... I believed the stories my mom told me before bed,” he replied. “I also believed they were never going to stop producing _The Scarlet Enchantress and the Phantom Feline_ comics—” He gestured for him to come closer— “or that I was going to be a prodigy,” he whispered.

Hugh smiled at him. “The best curse ever.”

“What did you believe in?”

He laid his head on his desk. “I have a whole list.”

Simon covered his head with his hood and pretended to be ready to fall asleep. “The short version of that list, then.”

Hugh imitated him. “I used to believe that adults never grew up. Like, they were born as adults,” Simon laughed and rolled his eyes. “I thought little people were running the television inside of it. I thought my aunt was the most beautiful woman in the world—”

“She is,” Simon replied.

“Simon, stop it. She is my aunt. You have many other girls to choose from.”

“They are not as pretty as your aunt.”

“Simon!”

Simon laughed and the girls shushed him. His friend turned red in the ears as they returned to their conversation like nothing. Hugh wanted to point out how rude they had been.

However, when Simon discreetly smiled at him again, he decided to continue with his list. Those girls were not worthy of his attention. “I also believed in Santa Claus, until _someone_ ruined my hopes and dreams.” Another kick. Simon kicked people too much. “But I also believe in that someone, you know.”

Simon's smile almost disappeared. “Well... that _someone_ doesn't believe in himself.”

_ I knew it. _

He understood his friend. He really did. He knew there were times when Simon would get more nervous than normal in banal situations. Or that he had some days when he didn't want to get out of bed at all. 

Those were the worst.

But despite that, not a single day passed that Simon didn't get up and go to school with him. Even when Hugh had to stop at his house and practically beg him to do it. 

Simon had never left him alone. And Hugh wasn't going to do it now.

He gifted him the widest of his smiles. “Well that someone doesn't have to worry about it. I can believe in him for both of us.”

Simon stared into his eyes for several seconds. He felt like he knew that face as well as he knew his. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am sure,” he replied.

Simon kicked him again.

Hugh felt sparks exploding inside his stomach.

Suddenly, a body slammed into the lockers, and screams filled the school hallway. The trio of girls ran out to see who was involved. Hugh leaned out of the small window in the door. He had always believed he was above that kind of thing, and he was. But it was also the most interesting thing that was going to happen all day.

Simon followed him.

They were a couple of boys from their grade, the same ones who constantly teased them. One with curly blond hair was holding his friend by the collar of his shirt and was yelling an infinity of curse words. The other three in his group, instead of separating them, had joined the chorus of _“Fight! Fight!"_

Who knows why they were fighting. They were always fighting someone, but never with each other. They usually grabbed someone smaller than themselves for that, like the prodigy boy that was a grade below them. (They would never physically fight Hugh or Simon, making jokes at their expense was enough for them.) 

_ Cowards. _

Maybe they were just brutally bored.

But there had to be other ways to shake off the boredom.

“I'm going to tell a teacher,” Hugh said.

At that moment, one of the girls ran out of the scene in the direction of the teachers' office. Well, at least now he wouldn't be the one to look like a snitch in front of his entire grade.

“That someone is slightly concerned,” Simon whispered.

“Why?” The blond slammed his friend again, but this time, against the door. “For them?”

“No,” he replied, a little disturbed by the tremendous blow that boy had received. “I am— that someone is... Well, what if the plan you have in your head is stupid?”

At that moment, Hugh realized that he had no plans. That was weird. He always had a plan for everything.

Beating Ace Anarchy should be no exception.

“I suppose we can come up with something. The two of us,” he added.

The fight was broken up by a short-haired teacher. They hurriedly returned their school chairs to their places and the rest of their class entered. _Five, six, nine..._

Eleven. Only eleven kids had attended that day. And that counting the ones who were fighting a few moments ago. 

“Don't think that someone is just going to blindly follow you,” Simon whispered. “He will tell you when you have a stupid plan.”

“I would be very grateful for that,” he also replied in a whisper. “Although I always have amazing plans, to begin with.”

Simon tried to kick him, but at that moment, the teacher from the first class entered. Hugh chuckled, and in response, Simon discreetly raised his middle finger in his direction.

He knew at that moment that it would not be a stupid plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Dead threats? Feel free to let me know lol


	3. A golden medallion, a golden cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody!! I'm here with another update. We're going to forget about our gays sons for a moment and focus on the ladies (and Evander lol). Hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are always appreciated c;

_Please picture me in the weeds before I learned civility._

_I used to scream ferociously any time I wanted._

_Sweet tea in the summer,_

_cross my heart, won’t tell no other._

**Tamaya**

When she first arrived at that abandoned store, she thought it would take years for it to feel like home. There were many empty boxes, rats, dust, and rusty pipes. Also, Tamaya had never cleaned in her life. The prospect of having to deal with this mess on her own was not the least bit appealing to her.

However, the idea of going home was even less so.

The first night was uncomfortable. She couldn't sleep at all. Luckily, she had brought a flashlight with her and started to cover all the windows with loose wood and old cardboard. Then, with some chains and furniture, she blocked the entrances. She looked up at the ceiling and realized there was a light catcher.

Tamaya smiled. She wasn’t gonna block it.

She had overestimated how long it would take to clean the whole place. It turns out that when there was nothing else to do, one can work remarkably fast, even without help. Rats were the least of her problems. She wasn't disgusted when she grabbed them, stuffed them into a box, and released them a few blocks further at night. Georgia was so shocked by it that the first thing she did the next day was giving her an antibacterial gel. A luxury item in those times.

Tamaya preferred when Georgia brought her food. She didn’t like that much the fact she was living off the garbage from the place next door.

On the eighth night, she looked at her reflection in the dirty mirror at the back of the room. The candlelight was the only thing that illuminated her. Molly was sitting on her lap. She noticed that her once flawless green dress had tiny spots of an unknown substance. 

But Tamaya looked even worse. Clothes had never mattered much to her and her wings were fine. What worried her the most was her hair. It had always been long. She had tried to convince her parents for years to let her cut it off, but they never let her. Why? Her hair was the prettiest thing she had.

It was at that moment, that Tamaya realized that she no longer needed to look pretty to anyone. Beauty was overrated.

She took a pair of scissors and cut her hair.

Her head and soul felt lighter.

The sun hadn't quite risen yet when Georgia entered through the light trap. For a few seconds, Tamaya could see the firmament was as pink as only sunrises could be. Under her arm, Georgia carried a cloth bag.

Tamaya rubbed her eyes wearily. She had been waiting for her sitting on an old chair for a long time.

“Honey, I’m home!” Georgia exclaimed gracefully coming down.

She always made the same joke. And Tamaya always had to pretend she didn’t find it funny.

“Oh, but I haven’t prepared breakfast yet,” she muttered.

Georgia looked at Molly and tossed the cloth bag at her. “Molly, catch it!”

Obviously, Molly didn't catch it. Georgia pretended to smash a cup of glass against the wall and raised herself a few feet off the ground to appear taller than Tamaya. “Tamaya, I want more children. Molly is too lazy and ugly.”

Tamaya put her hand to her mouth and faked a sob. “How can you say that in front of your daughter, Georgia?—” She waved at Molly. “—In front of your daughter!”

Then her friend grunted and lunged at Tamaya, knocking them down onto the mattress. “No! She is not a worthy heir to my wealth!” she exclaimed, sitting on her lap. “Her head is made of plastic! And she’s white! Tamaya, I'm not white! Who is the father?!”

“Of course she's your daughter!” Tamaya replied “You know how I know she’s yours? Because she’s a little piece of shit too!”

Georgia's jaw dropped. She closed her eyes, sighed, and with a dreamy smile, whispered, “A little piece of shit… That's my daughter,” and kissed her on the cheek.

Tamaya had never received kisses in her life. If her parents ever did, she had been too young to remember. But she liked it when Georgia did it because it was like...

Well, as if a sister did it. Or a mom. Or a real friend.

“That was the magic kiss that makes babies, by the—” Suddenly, Georgia dropped to the ground holding her belly. “Oh no, the baby is coming! The baby is coming! “ and, amid false screams worthy of a woman in labor, she took out of her jacket pocket a blue cardboard box with pink details. “Oh… Oh, Tamaya, dear,” she muttered, standing up. “She's beautiful,” and she put it in her arms.

Tamaya looked at it. They were tampons.

She didn't know where she was getting the strength not to laugh.

“Tampons Rae,” she whispered, stroking what would be the cheek of the box.

“Molly will be so jealous…”

“Molly will love her new sister. I'm sure.”

Georgia finally laughed and lay down next to Tamaya. It amazed her that lying on such a small, old mattress didn't bother her. She had never been to her room, but in her head, Tamaya had the image of her friend lying on a bed that could easily fit six people, wearing pajamas worthy of a princess and with the room smelling like vanilla and strawberries. Nothing to do with where they were now.

She looked at the box of tampons more closely. It felt a little lighter than expected, so she assumed Georgia had kept a few for her personal use, which honestly didn’t bother her. Then, she took out what was inside the bag. A bar of soap, a bottle of apple soda, and two bags of walnuts about to expire. 

There were fewer supplies than last time.

She arranged them in a loose drawer next to the mattress. There was still an energy bar left that Georgia had brought her a couple of days ago. She took it and handed it to her.

“No, you eat, Tamaya,” Georgia said with a smile. “I have plenty at my house.”

“Okey,” she replied with a shrug. Tamaya took a small bite. It tasted weird. “Has your mom got a job yet?”

“No,” she muttered. “But she is already an older woman. Maybe that's why nobody wants to hire her. And it's not like many people have money to pay one more employee anyways. Also, she may have been an excellent lawyer at the time, but I'm not so sure if she's a good housekeeper or waitress.”

Tamaya nodded. She shouldn't have asked.

“I'm thinking about looking for a job too—”

“She won't let you.”

“So what?” Georgia said challengingly. “That thing about staying at home, reading and embroidering, doesn't suit me.” She crossed her arms. “I'm nineteen years old, I think it's time for me to start making my own decisions.”

Decisions. What a strange word.

Because that implied that she had options.

And Tamaya had already gotten used to not having them.

The good thing is that she was fully aware of it.

Georgia bit her lower lip and stood up. “I guess I should go. You know… to keep looking for a job.”

“Yes,” Tamaya said. "I guess you should.”

Her friend took the cloth bag. Tamaya walked with her until they were just below the light catcher. She should go out in the sun for a bit before people started to go outside.

“I'll come back tomorrow,” Georgia assured her, taking her hand. “I promise.”

She had promised that before and she had not always kept her word. However, Tamaya had already learned that promises were very easy to break and she didn't take it personally.

“I’ll wait for you.”

And she left.

And Tamaya was left alone. Again.

She waited a couple of minutes before sticking her head out of the light trap. She looked up at the morning sky, cold and clear, with the smell of garbage and pollution that characterized it at all hours. There was still no one on the streets, but the lady from the Chinese food place next door was taking out the trash from the day before, like every morning.

_Breakfast._

Unlike Tamaya, she never looked up at the sky.

Nobody did. If they did, they would be aware of her presence. But people were too into their own thing that they didn't even bother to see something beyond their noses. Just thinking of themselves and their wishes. Of course, now that there was no longer someone to punish those who disrespected the thin line there was between good and evil, they had taken the opportunity to bring out the most primitive and selfish part of their beings.

Tamaya had spent a lot of her time thinking about it, and she still didn't understand the reason behind it.

Maybe it was that Tamaya would never understand the world of normal people.

Yes. That was probably it.

She waited for the woman to return inside to completely leave her lair. Tamaya was ready to go down to look for her food when a small and slim figure came out from behind some wooden boxes and ran towards the garbage bags.

She was going to take her breakfast.

Tamaya wasn't going to make it so easy for her.

That was what happened when people did not look up to the sky.

**Kasumi**

She wasn't looking in the trash for food, no. Kasumi was collecting the ingredients for the royal breakfast, which would take place in the most beautiful Chinese garden in the kingdom. It would be held that morning. They would be sitting by the river's edge, on a soft white blanket. She and Evander were going to eat like the monarchs that they were. There would be hard-boiled eggs, fresh plums, strawberries and cream, pancakes, waffles covered with jam, and cookie milkshakes. They would be able to eat whatever they wanted without getting sick to their stomachs. And if they did, they would only have to sing a song to the waters of the river and it would become the sweetest and most effective stomach ache remedy of all.

It was going to be the best feast there could have been.

But first, she had to find the ingredients.

She held her breath as she rummaged through the remains of rotten vegetables and sticky noodles. _Think, think, think._

Kasumi was holding her breath because... the ingredients came from a magical bush. They had flowers that gave off a foul odor to scare off intruders. However, when they realized that Kasumi was pure of heart, they would reveal their true scent of grapes and rays of the sun.

Then, among all that mess, she found a box of white foam. She carefully removed a few pieces of grated carrot and tore it open with trembling hands.

Fried rice. A delicious plate of fried rice. And it actually looked edible. 

She hugged the box with a lump in her throat. Oh, Evander was going to love this—

“That's mine.”

Kasumi froze.

It was the coldest and most terrifying voice she had ever heard. Hoarse and stern, it rumbled in her head like thunder in a storm.

A tear rolled down her cheek. God, Evander was so hungry. She was so hungry...

“Give it to me. Now.”

Kasumi rubbed her eyes and turned around. She put the foam box on the floor. and was about to look up, when the voice commanded, “Don't look at me.”

She obeyed. The mysterious voice took the box.

“I didn't mean to steal your food,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

A feather fell in front of her. Kasumi was slightly startled. Her head completely forgot what the voice had commanded, and she shone her flashlight.

It was a woman. She had shoulder-length hair and an aquiline nose. That, along with her amber eyes and huge black wings, Kasumi was sure she was seeing a bird. A lady.

A Ladybird.

_Ladybird, are you the one who protects the magic bushes?_

Ladybird did not like the light on her face. She hissed and slapped the flashlight from Kasumi’s hand. “I told you not to look at me!” she yelled.

At that moment, a flash caught Kasumi's attention. A flash of gold that came from a broken medallion hanging from Ladybird's neck.

She reached into the back pocket of her pants and felt between her fingers the half of that same locket that belonged to her.

Kasumi was wrong. Ladybird did not protect the magic bushes. Ladybird was a thief. Not only had she taken her and Evander's food, but she had also taken Mr. Holbrook's locket.

How delusional of her to believe that there were still people who protected something other than themselves.

Ladybird spread her wings, ready to take off when Kasumi lunged at her and tried to yank the locket from her. She pulled and pulled but the old chain wouldn't give up and Ladybird wouldn't stop yelling, “What the hell?! Let go of me!” 

She took her by her long braid and threw her to the ground. However, the adrenaline rush allowed her to jump up and grab onto Ladybird's ankle. “That is not yours!” cried Kasumi. “Thief!”

“IT'S MY FOOD, BITCH!”

“IT'S NOT YOUR MEDALLION!”

The door to the store opened. Kasumi became so flustered that she accidentally let go of Ladybird's ankle and fell backward against the concrete. The lady started yelling rude words at her in an accent Kasumi could barely understand. She got to her feet, dodged the lady's broom, and ran as fast as her legs would allow her.

Regardless, Kasumi wished that Ladybird had escaped in time before the lady saw her. Something told her that she was not going to be nicer to her than she was to Kasumi.

* * *

She carefully pushed the rusty trash can. That, and the piece of wood that they put over that hole in the wall, made it impossible for someone unfamiliar with the area to know there was a secret entrance. Kasumi wondered how they would enter when they grew up. She herself sometimes had a little difficulty entering. But surely it was just her imagination. Besides, it wasn't like that wall was especially difficult to pull down.

From the looks of it, that place used to be an apartment complex. All the main entrances had been blocked with rubble and there was not a single window that was not broken. Kasumi and Evander had settled on the third floor. It was a dangerous thing to walk those increasingly unstable stairs, but it would be more dangerous for someone to remove the rubble, enter and see them. On the third floor, they would at least have a little time to escape.

Luckily, it hadn't been necessary yet.

She entered her small apartment and found Evander coloring the wall with pieces of chalk they had found in the park. When he saw her, his dirty freckled face lit up as much as the fireworks that came from his hands. “Kasumi!” he screeched. “Did you bring breakfast? Tell me you brought breakfast!”

Heartbroken, Kasumi swallowed the lump in her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. “Today I brought our favorite food, Vandy…”

Evander smiled even more. Kasumi opened an imaginary box and whispered, “Stardust cookies.”

Her friend's smile twisted a little in an almost imperceptible way. “Stardust cookies!" he exclaimed, taking one. Kasumi moistened her hands with her powers and wiped his face. Now, Evander didn’t look that dirty anymore. “Let me guess, these were cooked by—” he scratched his chin thoughtfully “—Your Mr. Dad!”

“No, it was _your_ Mr. Dad,” Kasumi replied. They sat right in front of the window to eat their stardust cookies. There was still a star left in the sky. _Perfect_. “Hello Mr. Wade, thanks for the cookies. Evander, don't be rude. Thank to your Mr. Dad.”

Evander put his pieces of chalk in his pockets. He kept a pink one and gave Kasumi the blue one. “Thanks, Dad!” and proceeded to color a flower in the window frame.

Kasumi took a stardust cookie and chewed it. She always imagined stardust cookies as if they were vanilla cookies with pieces of almonds and white chocolates, so soft they left puffs all over the place.

Hopefully one day she could taste some real stardust cookies.

She decided to draw fishes.

“Don’t you think that today's cookies were a bit burnt?” Evander whispered.

“No, they were delicious,” she replied. “Your Mr. Dad showed off. Who do you think cooks better, your Mr. Dad or my Dad?”

“Mom Bertha.”

Kasumi giggled underneath. “You’re right, Vandy.”

They kept coloring.

They had always drawn on the walls. Their drawings, pretty cans, curious rocks, and bunches of sticks that hung from the corded rafters were the only decorations they had. However, lately, they had chosen to draw on the window frame during the early hours of the day.

Maybe it was because there was something romantic about drawing in the light of dawn. Or maybe it was because she liked to think that their parents could see what they were drawing from the stars.

Or both.

“I don't know if I can bear the same breakfast tomorrow,” Evander murmured. “We've been eating stardust cookies for almost two days.”

_Don't cry, Kasumi, don't cry._

“And what do you want to eat then?” she asked. “What a pretty flower, by the way.”

Evander shook his head. “No, tell me what _you_ want. And I'll get it myself today.”

Kasumi pursed her lips and scratched her head, pretending to seriously consider her answer. “I would like…” she muttered. “Oh, I know, a giant chocolate cake.”

“No, Kasumi, something easy!” Evander squealed, nudging her slightly. “A giant chocolate cake will crush me!” He threw himself to the ground and pretended to be crushed by a huge chocolate cake. “I'll be like this, dead…”

“How awful!” she exclaimed. “So… maybe a small chocolate cake?”

“Now that sounds a lot more reasonable,” he replied, sitting down again. “At least that one isn't going to crush me.”

“I don't feel comfortable speaking ill about your Mr. Dad’s food in front of him,” Kasumi said. “He's going to say I'm a bad influence and he won't let me hang out with you.”

“Dad, Kasumi is not a bad influence!” Evander yelled to the sky, “I swear!”

Mr. Wade looked at her from above, annoyed.

Kasumi didn't feel bad. She deserved it.

“Look at my flower,” Evander said, pulling her out of her thoughts. He pointed to a pink flower with triangular petals and huge circular leaves. “I just created it, it is a new species. Do you know how I'm going to name it?”

She ran her fingers over the drawing. If she concentrated enough, she could imagine that she was touching those velvety petals and not the hard concrete. “How?”

“Kasumi. Like you.”

Kasumi sighed. 

_Mrs. Moon, how do I explain that I am not worthy of having such a beautiful flower named in my honor?_

Probably Mrs. Moon was upset with her too because she flatly refused to answer her question. She was also hungry. She was also mad at Kasumi for not trying a little more.

“Are you telling me that because you want me to give you the last stardust cookie?” she asked.

“Will you?”

Kasumi rolled her eyes in fake annoyance and handed him the last cookie. Evander almost snatched it from her hands. He went back to his drawing as he chewed it happily, moving to the beat of a song inside his head. 

Imaginary music. Imaginary food. 

Was he imaginary?

_Am I imaginary?_

She toyed with his red locks and realized she left traces of blue chalk in his hair. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled.

Evander turned to see her, confused. “Why?”

Kasumi wanted to answer that she was sorry she had messed his hair. 

But actually, she was sorry for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Tamaya called a thirteen-year-old a bitch. She's that kind of person (and so am I) (Just kidding) (Or am I?) (You'll never know)


	4. Don't be a hero

_The sky could be falling, the seas could be rising,_

_the whole world would end, and you’d still be there smiling._

_You laugh in the face of the dangers you see._

_Oh, thank goodness you’re out here with me!_

**Hugh**

“So the first step to our redemption is to stop stealing.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Sure, that's easy. Next time our families need food, water, or medicines, we will walk to the supermarket, take out our credit cards and—”

“Okay, I get it,” Hugh interrupted, “we don't have any money.”

“Not a single penny. All the money my dad makes goes to the medicine fund,” Simon explained. “Do you remember when Sophie had a stomach infection during the summer? That's where all the money he had raised for two months went.”

The truth was that Hugh was not very aware of how much medicines actually cost. He rarely got sick and his aunt...

When he told the owner of the store he didn't know what his aunt had, he wasn't lying. Just six months ago, she had gone to the last remaining hospital in all of Gatlon City that had not yet been taken over by the Anarchs or some gang. She left in the morning and returned hours later, with a box of cigarettes she finished that same night.

Yes, she was sick. No, there was nothing to worry about. She would be fine. And she never bought cigarettes again after that. (Good. It was a terrible habit.)

“What medicines—”

“Oh, I don't need medicine,” she replied. “It’s only a matter of time. And I'm serious. If I see that you spend money on medicine for me, I will punish you.”

It would be the first time his aunt punished him. He didn't want to smear his record with it, so he decided to believe her.

Everything would be fine.

“We will have to find a way,” he replied. “But we can't steal anymore.”

They continued walking down the sidewalk. Classes were over. The autumn wind ruffled their hair and flushed their cheeks. It was a sunny and kind of hot day, but it didn't bother him at all. After all, he had always preferred warm climates.

“We could drop out of school,” Simon suggested, “and get a job.”

“Drop out?”

“It's not like someone is going to stop us,” he replied with a shrug. “Would your aunt mind you drop out of school? I think my dad would be happy to have someone else bring money to the house.”

Hugh tightened the straps on his backpack. Simon had told him walking like that made him look like one of the dwarves from Snowhite. “I had never considered dropping out of school,” he replied. “I don't know what she would say.”

“Think about it.” Simon carried his backpack on one shoulder and walked with his back hunched and his eyes down. “I know you hate school as much as I do. It's not like we learn anything anyway. Also, if we stop stealing and start earning an honest living, we would stop contributing to the crime and anarchist culture that destroyed the city in the first place.”

Hugh stopped walking.

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked.

“That— that makes a lot of sense, actually,” he agreed.

_When did you get so smart?_

Simon smiled at him and tapped his temple. “And I didn't learn that in school.”

They stopped a few steps from the door of Joe's Basket. He felt a wave of remorse wash over him. That man had been so kind to him. He had given him a chocolate bar, talked to him, sent greetings to his aunt...

And they had been cruel. Nothing but cruel.

He reached into his pants pocket and felt the money he kept there.

An honest purchase might not solve all the trouble they had caused, but it could be a good start.

Simon opened the door for him. The owner of the store recognized him immediately and greeted him. Hugh smiled at him and headed toward the shelves. He and Simon stared at the articles for a while. He was glad to know that he had been able to restock since their last visit.

On one hand, he wanted to spend those five dollars and seventy cents on a couple of cans of real food. But on the other, those fruity bubble gums looked great. Hugh hadn't bought gum in a long time after Mr. Westwood told him they cause cavities.

“If you drop off school, what job would you get?” Simon asked.

“What job would _you_ get?”

“I do not know, that's why I ask you. We’re brainstorming.”

He laughed underneath. “I think… I could sell chromium stuff, right? Like cutlery. I could start my own chromium cutlery business!”

Simon looked at him skeptically. “Sure. The market for cutlery is in full swing during this time of the year.”

The two of them fixed their gaze on two chocolate bars that were left at the bottom of a small cardboard box at the same time. They immediately knew where they would spend their money. Stars, they could even buy that fruity bubble gum. The hell with cavities.

Being good felt… good.

Simon reached out for the chocolates when three men entered the store, one by one, leaving a strong smell of tobacco and glue behind them. They wore brown leather jackets and had their right ear covered with earrings.

_Roaches._

As the Roaches approached the counter, Hugh and Simon ran to hide behind other shelves.

“We have to go,” Simon whispered in the lowest tone he could manage.

Hugh looked at the counter. The shortest of all had to be of the same height as him. He was missing a lot of teeth and his fingers were yellow. His face, haggard and wrinkled, made him look more like a rat than a human. He leaned confidently on the counter, conversing with the owner as if he were an old friend. But the owner did not look at all pleased with their presence.

“Simon, we have to help him.”

Simon turned translucent. “Help him?”

One of the Roaches turned in his direction. Hugh managed to duck just in time so they wouldn't see him.

“They are armed,” Simon stressed. “I saw their guns when they entered.”

Hugh almost laughed out loud as he removed his glasses and handed them to Simon.

Guns were the least of his problems.

He could create a weapon with his powers. A metal bar thick enough to hit the bigger guy on the head. He would hit him so hard that he would end up completely knocked out. Then the bald man would have the same fate. By that time, the shortest would have drawn his gun and shot him straight in the chest. But what would be his surprise when he realized that the bullets did not hurt him.

It would be so heroic.

“Guns, sure,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Do you think some guns can stop me?”

Simon pursed his lips.

Then he remembered that he had not come alone. That his friend was there. That the guns _could_ hurt him.

If something went wrong, even the smallest thing, he would lose Simon.

“It's a stupid plan,” Simon whispered. “Don't be the hero.”

Simon gave him the glasses back.

Hugh put his glasses on. “I will not be a hero. Turn invisible.”

The hallway was clear. If they walked silently to the door and ran as fast as their legs would allow them, the Roaches would have no chance to catch them even if they wanted to. And with Simon being invisible, they wouldn't even notice him and couldn't hurt him in any way.

That one was not a stupid plan.

Simon followed him. They were getting closer and closer to the exit. The Roaches had no idea what was happening. Hugh reached out to open the door...

But a girl with dark skin and curly hair did it before he could.

For a second, the two of them looked into each other's eyes, and Hugh felt like he had already seen her at another time. He was so focused on trying to remember why her face looked so familiar that he barely noticed that Simon pushed her away and ran.

Before he could follow him, a voice talked.

“Lady, come in. And you, kid... You stay.”

The girl entered. And Hugh stayed.

**Georgia**

The only time Georgia had come face to face with a villain had been when Mr. Rae broke into her home the day after Tamaya escaped. She and her mother were quietly having a cup of black tea and sour toast for breakfast when he threw down the damn front door like the maniac he was, ran into the dining room and started yelling at Georgia to tell him right now where Tamaya was. Georgia instinctively flew up to the dining room ceiling.

Her mother managed to throw Mr. Rae out of the house by threatening him with a knife.

After Mr. Rae left, her mother asked, “Do you know where Tamaya is?”

Georgia shook her head. She wasn’t lying. And her mother knew.

“Do you have something to do with her running away from home?”

Georgia nodded.

Surprisingly, her mother didn't scold her. They finished their breakfast as if nothing had happened. Before leaving for work, she told her not to leave the house and to finish the calculus lessons she had left on her desk. Georgia managed to get so distracted doing math problems that she hardly thought about Mr. Rae.

When her mother returned, she made her promise never to get in the way of an evil person again. Georgia didn't want to promise that.

“But Mom, Mr. Rae is a villain!” she exclaimed.

“Of course he is, Georgia,” the woman agreed. “But you are not a hero. You can't save everyone.”

_Like I couldn't save my dad, right?_

Georgia promised. Mr. Rae never looked for her again. That had happened over a year ago, and so far she had managed not to get in the way of any villain, and she was very proud of it.

Yet, she had been so mired in her happiness that she hadn't thought about what to do if a villain got in her way.

So Georgia did nothing. She just obeyed.

She and the boy took a few steps away from the entrance.

What a lousy day she had chosen to look for a job.

The big Roach extended his hand. Georgia hugged her curriculum tightly. What did he want from her?

The leader realized her confusion. “Give him your money,” he explained.

“Now,” the bald man seconded.

Georgia reached into her pants pockets and handed him her last fifty dollars. Her mother would be furious. But she'd be more furious if Georgia risked her life for a measly fifty dollars.

“What I wonder is,” said the bald man, “how is it that a girl with perfume as expensive as yours ended up in this part of town?”

“I—“

“Are you lost, darling?”

“Enough, Hound,” the leader ordered with a laugh. He toyed with a couple of coins. “Don't flirt with the hand that feeds you.”

Hound stopped.

The taller one then turned to the blond boy who was next to Georgia. He held out his hand. “Money. Now.”

The boy didn't move a muscle.

“Are you deft?” exclaimed the leader. "Now!”

“No.”

Leader raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying no to me?”

Georgia turned to see him. She was asking herself the same question.

_Did you say no to him?_

“No,” he repeated. “I refuse to listen to a villain like you.”

So he noticed it too. He also noticed they were villains.

But why did he think he was a hero?

Hound and Big Roach walked towards the boy, but Leader stopped them with a wave of his hand. “A villain?” he scoffed “What makes you think I'm a villain?”

“Well, certainly, robbing stores is not a very heroic thing to do,” the boy emphasized. “And you didn’t even say please when you—“

Leader put the gun to his forehead. The owner opened his mouth to speak out, but Hound gave him such a look that it silenced him before he said anything. Georgia dropped her curriculum.

That kid was going to get himself killed right in front of her. Georgia knew she had to do something, but she didn’t understand why her body refused to listen to her heart.

Just like that night.

“What do you think now?” the leader asked her, with a hideous smile.

“Will you say ‘please’, Mr. Roach?”

Leader stuck the gun to his forehead. “What the fuck, no, I won’t!”

And then, the kid...

The kid freaking smiled at him. “Then shoot.”

Leader froze. He lowered his gun, puzzled at the boy's reaction.

Was that it? Was that how you defeated a villain?

By smiling at them?

_Incredible._

But before Georgia could process what happened, Leader placed the cannon on her forehead. She stifled a sob that threatened to come out of her mouth.

The boy's smile disappeared immediately.

“Oh, excuse me, Captain, could you repeat your last order?” Leader asked with mockery. “Did you order me to—“ he put his finger on the trigger “—shoot?”

If only Georgia could grab the man by the wrists and snatch the gun from him in one move. Take that stupid Roach by surprise, point his own gun at him, and give him a little taste of his own medicine. He would never expect it from a pretty, defenseless girl like Georgia.

But she did not move. Again.

The boy took the money out of his pockets. Several coins and two dollar bills. The big man snatched it from him with an almost piteous expression.

_Seriously?_

“Were you about to risk your life for five dollars?” Hound asked as Leader tucked his weapon into his belt. “How pathetic.”

The boy lowered his head and turned to see her. If Georgia could speak, she would have thanked him.

“The backpack,” ordered Big Roach. “We also want the backpack.”

“But—“

“Give me the backpack. Now.”

He gave him the backpack. Big Roach opened it and raised his eyebrows. Hound rolled his eyes and scattered all of its contents to the ground. The textbooks opened at random pages, one of the notebooks ended up under a shelve, and the metal pencil case made a ruckus as it smashed against the store tile.

However, what caught her attention was the comic.

Georgia flinched when she saw his back cover.

A man was wearing a blue mask and a tight uniform and had Ace Anarchy's helmet pierced by a silver spear.

Hound handed the backpack to the owner, saying something about putting all the money he had there. Leader squatted down and took the comic as if it were a vile gossip magazine.

“Do not touch it.”

Leader made a military salute. “As you order, Captain,” and opened the comic.

Georgia didn't understand why the boy was so upset. His pupils had dilated and his hands were shaking as much as hers. Each page that Leader turned, the boy flinched as if it was an unwanted touch.

He hadn't acted like that when they had literally pointed a gun at him, but now he did? Now he freaked out?

Then she thought it would make her nervous too if they touched her books. Especially the ones she hid under her bed.

She wanted to say that she understood him.

But she couldn't speak.

Then, Leader stopped at a particular page. “Hey, guys, check this out,” he laughed. “It turns out that our captain is also an artist. Look what he did,” and pulled out a drawing of a battle between the same superhero and Ace Anarchy.

Georgia didn't have to be a detective to know right away that the boy had drawn it.

Hound joined in the taunt, but Big Roach was only as serious as she was. Leader tore off the back cover of the comic and threw it to the ground along with the rest of the notebooks. Suddenly, he took Georgia by the arm and put the two pictures on her face.

“What are the similarities between these two pictures?” he asked with his cigar breath. Georgia had the drawings so close that she couldn't distinguish them. “Did the Phantom Feline eat your tongue, lady? What are the similarities?”

“They're both a drawing of the same characters...” she muttered.

Leader pushed her. The owner passed the backpack to Hound, and he and Big Roach headed for the exit. “I thought you'd be smarter, lady,” Leader said, shaking his head. “I'll tell you what the similarities are. They're both going to end up with someone dead.”

He stopped right in front of the boy, put the drawing on his face, and tore it in two. “Just not today, Captain.”

The tension didn't go away when they left, but Georgia felt that at least she could breathe peacefully now. She collapsed into a plastic chair that was awkwardly perched next to a broken soda machine and hid her face in her hands.

She was safe. The villains were gone.

She was safe.

But at what cost?

_At the cost of being a coward._

“Are you okay, kids?” asked the owner. “Good heavens, I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Georgia raised her face. He was an old man, with gray hair and parched skin. His wrinkles became more noticeable with his concern. "I'm fine,” Georgia said. “Don’t worry.”

“And you, son?”

The boy adjusted his glasses. “I’m fine too.”

With mechanical movements, he bent down and quickly gathered his things. He took Georgia’s curriculum and shyly handed it to her. Georgia noticed how his expression changed when he took the comic in his hands, battered and with folded and wrinkled pages. The boy tried to flatten it out as best he could and tucked it between his heavy Algebra and Geometry books.

“Where is your friend?” asked the owner.

“He came out before they saw him,” he replied.

The owner frowned. “I didn't see him come out—“ Immediately, the owner seemed to understand. But instead of getting mad, he just shrugged. “Oh, all right... Well, I'm glad everything is fine. I am so sorry, if I knew they were coming, I would have closed the store. Anyway, I think you should go with your friend, right?”

“Yes,” the boy stammered. “I have to go with him.”

“Don't you want to take—“

“Oh no, really.”

“For the inconvenience.”

“It’s okay.” He pressed the books to his chest. “I have to go with my friend. He must be very worried. Goodbye, sir.” He looked at Georgia for a second. “And bye... ma'am.”

_Ma’am?_

The owner shook his head when he left. These kids, really. “What do you have there, miss?”

 _Miss_ was a better term.

Georgia handed it to him. The owner smiled. “A curriculum. You have beautiful handwriting, miss, I assure you.” Her mother would be very happy to hear that. “But at the moment I don't have any vacant positions. Sorry.”

Georgia took her curriculum back and smiled at the man.

Why did she feel like she hadn't smiled in years?

Was she so affected by what just happened?

“However, I doubt that you are going to decline my offer to take anything from the store,” he continued, smiling as if she had been practicing it all her life. “How about a chocolate bar? I've heard that chocolate always helps us forget our sorrows for a moment.”

He was right. “A candy bar sounds great,” she replied.

The owner walked over to the shelves. “I’m glad to know Phantom Feline did not actually eat your tongue.”

Georgia laughed. Her eyes saw the red notebook that was below the shelf. She bent down to get it out of there. On the cover, it had _“Hugh E.”_ written in permanent marker.

She opened the notebook. On the back of the cover, there were a lot of unfinished doodles and random to-do lists. In the corner, someone had written in purple pen, _“If you find this lost notebook, return to 4491 Atha Drive. Be careful, the owner is a bit of an idiot. Proceed with caution.”_

And the owner (probably this Hugh E.) had added with a blue gel pen, _“Not true. My aunt says I'm very charming. Please give me back my notebook.”_

His handwriting was way too pretty for a boy.

Georgia tucked the notebook into her cloth bag. When she returned her gaze to the ground, the gray eyes of Ace Anarchy's drawing met hers. It was when she realized that Hugh E. had not taken his drawing with him.

Georgia decided to return him his notebook and drawing as soon as she could.

After all, he said _"please"_.


	5. A peculiar monster

_ Who would you live and die for on that list? _

_ But the problem is, there's another list that exists,  _

_ and no one really wants to think about this. _

_ Forget sanity, forget salary, forget vanity, my morality. _

_ If you get in between someone I love and me, _

_ you're gonna feel the heat of my cavalry. _

**Simon**

Simon ran for a good two minutes before finding a place to stop. He turned the corner in the second alley he found and collapsed behind the largest trash can he found, dropping his backpack next to him. Simon wiped the cold sweat on the sleeve of his jacket. It had been a long time since he ran that much.

However, compared to the relief he felt, the fatigue was hardly noticeable.

They were safe.

He turned to his right, ready to tell Hugh that they were never going to go back to that damn store when he realized he was alone.

_ Completely  _ alone.

_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

In the street, there were a couple of homeless guys, an old man talking to himself, a dirty-looking child… 

Hugh was nowhere to be found.

Simon hid again. His heart was beginning to beat unnaturally, and he couldn't feel his arms or legs. He tried to breathe but instead started to hyperventilate.

Tears were beginning to pool in his eyes.

He pulled his hair. Simon didn't want to cry. Only weak men cried and he was _not_ weak.

Right?

He covered his mouth to hide his sobs.

Simon was weak. And selfish. And an idiot. And a fucking coward.

Why didn't he look back? Why didn't he take a moment to make sure Hugh was following him?

Weak and selfish. And an idiot. And a coward.

The Roaches were going to finish off Hugh. They would kidnap him, force him to join their gang, and he wouldn't be able to return to his normal life. Simon would never see him again and it would haunt him the rest of his days knowing that he could have done something and he didn't.

It was his fault. If only they had stayed to fight...

They probably would have been killed. There was no doubt about that. However, if they died, at least Simon could have taken his friend by the hand and thank him for believing in him. That the only thing he liked about being a prodigy was that it gave him the chance to meet him and that he was going to consider him his best friend even after all came to an end.

Because nothing and no one could ever end with what they had. Not the Roaches, not Ace Anarchy… not even death itself.

The two of them dying together sounded better than one of them dying alone.

He looked at his hands. They were invisible.

Hugh must have been so scared… Simon was fucking scared to death.

The boy he had seen on the sidewalk a few moments ago entered the alley. He was wearing cotton pants and shoes that did not fit him well. A gray cap covered his entire head.

Children shouldn't be alone in this part of town, he knew that from experience. If they were unsupervised, an idiot like Freud would probably come along and hunt them down for a long time with the sole purpose of killing them, and—

Then Simon remembered that in one of the pockets of his school bag, he carried a jackknife.

_ That  _ jackknife.

The boy began to search the garbage.

It might be too broken to stab someone, but it was worth a try. Being invisible, he could take them by surprise. Simon would stand right in front of them and stick the jackknife in their eyes, one by one. None of them would understand what the hell was going on and when they finally figured it out... it would be too late to fight back.

The boy put his hands in his pockets and sighed wearily.

What if Simon arrived too late?

He banished that thought from his head immediately. For the sake of those Roaches, he wished he didn’t arrive late.

Simon was more than aware of his limitations. However, he was willing to ignore all that just to kill whoever dared to hurt _him_.

He still couldn't feel his hands when he reached for his backpack. Immediately, he realized the boy had been in front of him all that time. His little green eyes were fixed on Simon's. He wiped his tears, but then remembered there was no point.

He couldn't see him.

The kid took a few steps towards him. His eyes didn't move.

_ Wait. _

Simon reached out his hand to touch him.

_ Or can you? _

Then— the boy took the backpack and fled.

It all happened so fast that for a second, Simon wondered if it was worth following him. It was his school backpack. He was going to drop out anyway. If Hugh did it, so would he.

_ Hugh.  _

It was that thought that made him stand up and chase the thief.

The jackknife was in his backpack. He needed that jackknife.

He needed his friend alive.

**Evander**

He wasn't quite sure why he started running when he grabbed the backpack. Maybe it was because he felt guilty about stealing it but the truth was that he didn't. If someone had left it there, it was because they didn't want it.

Evander did want it. So he grabbed it. It was a fair deal.

He wanted it because inside of it there could be anything. It was a treasure chest, like the ones from the stories Kasumi told him. There could be food, or medicine, or toys. A year ago, he had been so lucky that he found a backpack with a bag of marbles hidden under a pile of adult clothing. Unfortunately, he had never been lucky enough to find the treasure of a retired mobster, who was sorry for his old habits and decided to abandon all his money on the street, in the hope of rehabilitating himself.

Someday he would. That day could be today. One never knew.

No, he had fled, because he had the feeling that someone was watching him. He didn't know how, he didn't know from where, but someone was watching him. If Kasumi had been there, she would have told him that it was his parents watching him from the stars. But Evander knew his parents weren’t looking at him.

When his parents looked at him from the stars, it was always with love, even when they reprimanded him for doing something wrong. Every time Evander was about to talk back to Kasumi, every time he was going to take something that clearly belonged to someone else even though he didn't need it, or every time he was going to be rude to a stranger just because he was having a bad day, his parents frowned at him and prevented Evander from doing so.

Because they loved him. Even from the stars, they loved him.

That look was nothing like his parents'. That one was full of terror, anger, and resentment.

But who’s gaze was that?

He kept running.

Was it someone from the stars?

No, that didn't make sense. Only good people were in the stars.

He stopped in the next alley, a few blocks away. Evander looked back.

No one was following him.

He swallowed. The backpack was heavier than he expected. He sat it on the ground and rubbed his hands together before carefully opening it.

_ Please make it the treasure of a retired mobster who is remorseful for his actions. _

They were books.  _ What a nerd. _

He wished books were food.

Despite his disappointment, he hugged the backpack like it was a teddy bear. If he had learned anything in all that time, it was that there was nothing they couldn't take advantage of. Maybe those books became decorations. Or they could be a new source of stories. Or maybe they could actually eat then...

Then, a hand took off his cap. He screamed in horror.

All of his red hair was exposed.

Evander felt chills immediately.

They were going to recognize him. They were going to know it was him.

He turned around, still holding the backpack. Suddenly, an older boy materialized in front of him and tried to snatch it from him. 

They struggled for a while. Evander didn't know if he was too strong or the boy was too weak.

His hands were beginning to ache...

“GIVE ME MY BACKPACK!”

The backpack broke. The older boy fell backwards and Evander hit his nose on the floor. Lots of notebooks, books, and loose sheets of paper were blown up like an explosion.

Evander's eyes were watery and his body was aching. To his right, he found a closed jackknife. The older boy was still trying to recover from the blow when Evander took it and he opened it.

He had never held a jackknife before.

Evander pointed at the older boy just as he sat down. “Leave me alone!” he screamed. “Go away!”

But his words only made him more enraged. The boy grunted and stretched out his hand.

He was going to take him. Evander was  _ convinced  _ that he was going to take him.

“I am Thomas Freud!”

He froze. “Thomas Freud?”

“Yes!” Evander screeched. “Yes, I am Thomas Freud! Don't come near me!”

_ I’m not Evander Jr. I swear, I am not Evander Jr. I am not the one you’re looking for. Please just leave me alone. _

He ignored him and reached out again. Evander slashed his palm slightly and the monster swore underneath. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I know you are not Thomas Freud!” he shouted.

His throat went dry at that moment. “No, I am! I swear! That’s my name!”

“It is not true!” he answered, pointing at him with his finger. “I know that because I met Thomas Freud and I hope he is rotting in the last circle of hell!”

He couldn't take it anymore. 

Evander broke.

He knew it. That boy, that monster knew. He knew who he really was, he knew what he had done, he knew they were looking for him. The monster was going to take him to the other monsters. They would kill him as they had killed his parents, Mama Bertha… they would go after Kasumi too. They were going to kill her too and everything would have been his fault.

Everything was always his fault.

The monster snatched the jackknife from him with a slap.

He knew immediately what was next.

“Please …” he mumbled. “Don’t hurt me please…”

The monster lost its enraged expression immediately. He blinked hard and looked at him like it was the first time he had. His face twitched, but Evander's gaze was so clouded by tears that he couldn't make out what he was feeling.

He looked at the jackknife. He looked at the street. And then he looked at him.

“Please…”

_ Please let me live one more day, Mr. Monster. _

The monster took off his jacket and put it under Evander's nose. “Raise your head,” he asked. “It's just ... your nose is bleeding.”

Evander looked down at his pants. It had tiny drops of blood on it.

He raised his head.

The monster's jacket smelled like mud and like the peppermint tea Mama Bertha used to drink at night.

That was weird. That was not how he remembered monsters smelled. Monsters smelled of garbage, rocks, and fire. They didn’t smell, like… good. Nor did they speak with such a soft voice, or had traces of tears on their cheeks.

It was a... _peculiar_ monster.

After a minute, the monster put his jacket back on. He still had the cap that he had ripped from his head in his hand. Evander took it without warning and quickly put it back on, making sure not a single red hair was visible. He dusted his hands with dirt from the floor and rubbed them over his face to cover his freckles.

The monster stared at him for a few more seconds. He didn't say anything else and left.

Evander smiled. With his cap and his freckles covered, he didn't recognize him anymore.

What an idiot monster.

_ But a monster after all. _

* * *

Kasumi was in the lair. Whenever one went out, the other stayed to watch that no one went in while they were gone. 

She was extremely calm, sitting on the mat, daydreaming.

She was fine.

Evander ran to hug her. Kasumi was startled by it but returned the hug. Immediately, she felt something was wrong. 

Kasumi took him by the cheeks. “Vandy, are you all right?” she asked him. “Did someone hurt you?”

Evander shook his head. “Then what’s—”

"I saw a monster today,” he replied. Kasumi shuddered. She moistened her hands and tried to wipe the dirt off his face. “No, don’t. When I covered my freckles, he left. Dirt saved me.”

Kasumi removed her hands from his cheeks. “A monster, huh? Like the ones we’re afraid of?”

He shook his head again. “He wasn't wearing any red. But he was a monster. You have to believe me, he was a monster.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “I believe you, Vandy.”

Kasumi leaned on the wall so that Evander could sit between her legs and lay his head on her chest. The afternoon sun came through the glassless window and warmed his face with its light. She stroked his hair. Kasumi knew how much it calmed them both to do that. “What was this monster like? Did... they had wings?”

“Wings? No, no, no wings. It was... tall," he recalled. “He wanted the backpack, but when he could take it, he didn't. His hair was curly and… he had cried.”

Kasumi stroked her chin. “Hmm, I see. I think I've heard of those kinds of monsters.”

“Are there many kinds of monsters?” Evander asked in amazement.

“Yes,” Kasumi replied. “But you don't have to worry about them.”

“How are you so sure?”

She bit her lip and looked around as if she was afraid someone might overhear. Finally, when she made sure no one else paid attention to them, Kasumi whispered, “Because monsters are afraid of candy.”

Evander allowed himself to laugh a little. “Of candy? What a bunch of idiots, who is afraid of candies?”

“Monsters only.”

He was about to laugh again when he remembered a small detail. “But we don't have candy,” he stressed. “Or do you have a secret reserve you haven't told me about?”

“Well, I don't have candy, that’s right.” Kasumi took him by the hands. They were still stained with dried blood. “But you do, Vandy. Here. Inside you.”

Then he remembered. “Candy for the soul.”

Kasumi nodded and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Next time a monster tries to hurt you, you attack it with candy.”

He looked at his hands for a moment more. “Is that why you never use your powers against monsters? Because you know they’re immune to them?”

He felt his friend's body shudder again. “Yes, that’s why.”

“And is that why I could defeat the monster from that night? The night of the attack?”

“Yes. That’s why.”

A spark of pride touched his heart. No one else and no one less than him had managed to end a monster attacking him with his worst nightmare. And he hadn't even known until now.

But the spark of pride was quickly extinguished when he realized that there were still many monsters out there. And that he was never going to be big and powerful enough to kill them all.


	6. God help our people

_God help the outcasts, hungry from birth._

_Show them the mercy they don't find on Earth._

_The lost and forgotten, they look to you still._

_God help the outcasts, or nobody will._

**Simon**

He came out of the alley with his jackknife in hand. His mind felt cloudy and his heart began to return to its normal speed. His throat was sore from crying. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't care in the least when he collided with a woman and she yelled at him to notice where he was walking. Or when she looked at him with fear when she noticed his jackknife. Or when she ran off like Simon had threatened him in some way.

No, he didn’t care in the slightest. Simon had only one thing in mind.

_Where is he?_

And as if an unknown God had heard his prayers, he finally saw him. 

Hugh was a few feet from the store, looking around like he was lost.

They exchanged glances. 

Simon closed the knife and put it in his pocket as we watched Hugh running towards him. With one arm he held his books and with the other, he hugged him with all his might. Simon stayed very still, with his mouth slightly open.

He hated spontaneous hugs. All of them. Without exception.

But this one, for some reason, wasn’t bad. That was new.

The only thing he could ask was, “What happened to your backpack?”

Hugh hugged him slightly tighter. “They took it,” he replied. “The Roaches.”

Hatred built up in his chest. The jackknife started to burn inside his pocket.

“Did they hurt you?” he muttered.

“What? No. No, they didn't. Seriously.”

“Not at all?”

Hugh laughed underneath. “Not at all.” 

Simon sighed. “Good.”

Those roaches had been lucky. If they had done something to him if they had dared to hurt him...

Simon wanted to continue hating them, but his brain couldn't focus.

Hugh smelled good. Like deodorant and familiarity. And his hug was so safe and warm...

He had to do it. If he didn’t, he was sure he would die right there.

Simon put his hands on his back. He rested his chin on his shoulder and felt his cheek touch Hugh's.

Then, an unknown electrical current ran through his entire body, and... he just felt _peace_.

Complete peace.

The fraction of a second that peace lasted, it was as if someone answered a question Simon had never asked himself but was inside his head during all that time. It was as if all his life he had been waiting for that moment. His hands on his back, his body against his… That was his place.

Everything fit perfectly.

Everything was fine.

And that was what woke him up.

Simon had learned that things were never going to be right. And if they were, it was because he was ignoring something.

That was not right.

He released himself from the embrace and looked away. At first, it looked like Hugh was going to say something to him, but his eyes fell on the blood-covered sleeve of Simon's jacket and he panicked. “What happened?” he asked.

“It is not my blood,” Simon replied.

“But it is your hand.”

Hugh took him by the wrist to get a better look at the wound on Simon's hand. It was deeper than Simon had thought in the first place. 

“Who did this to you?” Hugh asked him.

Furious. He was also furious.

All the memories hit his head so suddenly that he felt slightly dizzy.

“Sim—”

“I just had the weirdest interaction with a child.”

* * *

“...and he put dust on his face and looked at me like I was going to kill him.”

Hugh pursed his lips. “Well, he did think you were going to kill him.”

Simon looked away. "It was not my proudest moment."

 _That_ was not his proudest moment.

“I wouldn't have killed him," Hugh continued, “but I would have threatened him with— like, I don’t know, telling his parents. Or something like that. Or maybe… hit him a little. Do you think that is true? How does hitting your kids make them better?”

“God, Hugh,” Simon muttered, “of course it doesn't make them better. Don’t hit your kids.” And he couldn't contain his laughter.

Hugh laughed too. Then, he added in a low voice, “He would have it coming though.”

Simon didn't argue.

They were in Hugh’s tiny dining room. There was some ointment at the bottom of a drawer and a pair of clean bandages. Simon was convinced that he just needed to wash the wound and get on with his life, but Hugh insisted.

He was applying the ointment to his wound. Very carefully and slowly. He didn’t want to hurt him more. 

Simon shuddered internally every time he touched him.

He hated that it felt so good.

“Maybe next time we should... stay away from children,” Hugh continued. “When we work.” Simon must have looked confused, because Hugh added, “You know, after dropping out of school.”

“Who is going to drop out of school?”

Hugh's aunt entered the kitchen without warning. Her hair was tied up in a bun and had a cup of coffee in her hand. 

Simon wondered if she really worked making handmade rugs...

A few years ago, his father got a strange urge to try to separate Simon and Hugh and directly told him that Miss Everhart was a prostitute, not a carpet seller as she bragged. Simon never took it seriously and even got mad at his dad for saying that. Although he sometimes had to admit that he was curious if what he was saying was true, Simon would never dare to ask or comment on his father's suspicions. Still, he knew Heather Everhart would laugh at those assumptions and say something along the lines of “Obviously, that's what everyone would think if they saw a woman as attractive as me.”

_Apple didn’t fall far from the tree, I guess._

“Us,” Hugh replied. “Consider Simon and I no longer part of the Gatlon City educational system.”

“I would if there was still an educational system,” Heather replied. “Oh, Simon, what happened to your hand?”

“I got attacked.”

“For God’s sake, who did that to you?”

Simon was slightly embarrassed. “A ... a child.”

Miss Everhart shook her head. “Oh, kids these days. Everything is going from bad to worse. Children with knives...”

Hugh took the bandages and began to cover his wound with them. Simon mentally thanked Miss Everhart was present to distract him from all the sensations it caused him. “So you don’t mind us dropping out of school, do you?” 

“Gotta admit I don’t even know why you keep going to school,” she replied with a shrug. Miss Everhart sat down in the chair next to her nephew. “As long as you don't sit around the house all day doing nothing, Hugh, you can be whatever you want to be.”

“What if I wanted to be a superhero?” Hugh asked. Simon wanted to tell him to shut up, but Hugh looked amused. 

That relaxed him.

It definitely was that and not the fact he didn’t let go of his hand.

“You can be a superhero, I authorize you,” she replied laughing. “Why are your books on the table? Are you going to burn them?”

Hugh's smile faded. Simon tried to tell him with his eyes not to tell his aunt the truth about what happened to his backpack, but Hugh couldn't help himself. “We got robbed.”

Miss Everhart almost spilled her coffee on herself. “You two got robbed?”

“Technically they just robbed me.”

Of course, that didn't calm her down at all. “You got robbed?”

Hugh released his hand. Simon was relieved.

And sad.

“But I'm fine!” he exclaimed. “They only took my backpack.”

“Woah, no, super-dups,” Miss Everhart said sarcastically. “They only took your backpack. What a fucking relief.” She snorted and looked at his mug with a little revulsion. “Why would a bunch of gang members attack a kid?”

“Why wouldn't they?” Simon snapped. 

He did not have time to regret his words, because immediately, Miss Everhart agreed with him. “Exactly,” she stated, pointing at him. Her nails were painted with pretty red nail polish. “What stopped them from killing you?”

Hugh stiffened a little. “They didn't try to kill me. But if someone tried to do it,—” he laughed “—I doubt they would succeed.”

Miss Everhart rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair.

Simon kept asking himself the same question.

What stopped them from killing him?

It wasn't that they were children, right? Why would that stop some gang members? They didn't care. Simon remembered hearing how cruel the fate of child prodigies was before the Age of Anarchy, or even during those times. People abandoned them at birth, they were killed, or… all kinds of horrible things. 

He hadn't had any of that. His future was marked when he was born. Simon was never going to be persecuted for being one of them. Because he wasn't.

He looked at his hand again. It turned invisible. 

But now things had changed. If eight-year-old Simon had been asked if he believed one day he would become a prodigy, he would have said no.

His future changed after that afternoon in the alley. Everything. In just a matter of minutes.

Time was moving forward too fast. The future (a bad future) was coming with it, ready to take everything Simon loved.

The question was when that was going to happen. The question was if Simon— if they were going to be able to stop it.

_We won’t._

They were not heroes. They should stop pretending they were.

“You know, I've been thinking,” he muttered, “and maybe we should stay to finish this school year.”

“Seriously?” Hugh asked, raising his eyebrows. “But you were—”

“Yes, I know, I was the one who came up with the idea—”

Miss Everhart laughed. “Simon Westwood being a bad influence? I want John to know about that.”

Simon laughed too. He knew his dad wasn't going to find out. “But,” he continued, “I don't know, I think what happened today made me reconsider things a little.”

Hugh was notably disappointed. His glasses were on the tip of his nose and he didn't look him in the eye. Simon turned his attention to his hands, fiddling with the leftover bandages.

He forced himself to stop looking at them. 

Fucking hands.

Simon stroked his bandage. “Maybe we should wait a bit and live a normal life. While we can.”

_Maybe we can be heroes later._

Miss Everhart raised her mug like she was toasting or something. “Exactly. Just finish this school year, Hugh. You have good grades. Who knows, maybe you end up liking school. Maybe things change and— I don’t know, you two can have an actual future.”

_There is no future. At least not an actual one._

Simon knew that they weren’t going to like school no matter how hard they tried. He knew they had no future. That no one would have a future until someone stopped the Anarchists.

But he also wanted, just for a moment, the future to stop running towards him with its fist raised, ready to hit him in the face. He wished it didn't hit him too hard. Simon wished the future could wait for him to prepare himself to give it a fair fight. He wished when he was ready for it, it wasn't too late.

Damn, Simon knew he had to face the future. But he didn't want to do it now. Not after what had just happened. Not after hugging Hugh and realizing how at peace he had felt.

He was going to face the future. Just not today.

**Georgia**

They had no electricity. Like most the days. Her mother considered that it was more important to pay for other services. She had suggested getting it clandestinely, like most of the city, but her mother refused because that would only get them in trouble with gang members and Anarchists.

Georgia didn't argue with her. After all, she found it very nice to be in her room by candlelight. And she didn't want to get in the way of any villain.

Like she did that afternoon.

Generally, that was the only time of the day when she was truly relaxed. She would light her vanilla candle on, put on her white pajamas, and wrap herself in her blankets to continue reading that week’s book.

She didn't know why she only read at night. It was probably because when Georgia was little, her mother always told her that she should finish her assignments at school and help with housework before she could have free time. She kept all her books in the safe and if by seven o'clock she hadn't finished what she had to do, she wouldn't give them back. Georgia always had a tantrum, even when she was twelve years old.

Georgia hated school, even though school loved her. She knew that the only reason they didn't despise her or cast her out was that they didn't know she was a prodigy. Hearing the conversations of those stupid nuns, saying that prodigies were wiping out civilization as they knew it, that they had been sent by Satan and other utterly ridiculous beliefs made her blood boil. Girls who were not afraid of prodigies made fun of them. Their recurrent joke was “Oh, I can't go to mass, Mother Superior. I am a prodigy.”

That hurt her feelings. Because even if they didn't know it, they were making fun of people like her.

What did her mother have to say about the topic?

“Just… laugh with them, Georgie. Laugh so hard that no one hears your sadness.”

And Georgia laughed with them. And she was sure that no one could hear her sadness.

A few months later, the school closed. Her class was the last to graduate.

She had heard that many schools had already closed. Although she hadn't expected this rich, Catholic girls' school to be one of them, she was a little glad it was. It wasn't a good school anyway.

Georgia closed her book and grabbed the notebook. She took the drawing that was hidden between its pages. Georgia had managed to put it back together with some washi tape that she had kept lying around. 

She stroked its wrinkled edges as it were made of glass. 

What a great imagination he had. One man, one man defeating Ace Anarchy. Only a child could come up with something like this.

Georgia was no longer a child, she was more than okay with that. But she found herself wishing she had enough imagination to believe that scene was possible.

Also, it wasn't such a bad drawing.

She heard his mother coming up the stairs. Georgia quickly put it back inside the notebook, hid it under the pillow, and threw herself on it to hide it.

Her mother entered without knocking.

“Hello, Georgie,” she greeted in a whisper. “Are you asleep?”

Georgia rubbed her eyes. “No. Come in.”

"Did you say your prayers?”

“Sure,” she lied.

A white lie. Georgia hadn't said her prayers before bed since… well, a long time ago.

“I see.” She got it right away. “Well, I haven't. Come pray with me.”

She walked over to a table with a statue of Jesus that Georgia kept in the corner at the back of her room. Her mother hadn't let her get rid of it, but she didn't want to put it in her room either. So now Georgia had a stupid blessed statue, which only made her feel observed every time she changed her clothes.

She would have liked to argue about it, but Georgia had already learned to pick her fights.

Georgia knelt beside his mother, clasped his hands, and glanced at her.

She had no intention of praying.

“Did you get a job?”

Her mother frowned. “Shhh. I am praying.”

She understood. But Georgia wanted to talk. “What are you praying for today?”

Her features softened. “For your father’s soul. And for Him to take care of those less fortunate than us.”

_The usual._

Georgia looked at the figure.

And she felt powerless. Alone.

“If God exists, why does he let bad things keep happening?”

Her mother let out a long sigh. “Georgia—”

“If _we_ exist, why do we let bad things keep happening?”

The woman understood immediately that this was not a theological debate. It was a genuine question.

She thought his mother would tell her the usual. _Ladies shouldn't bother their mothers with senseless questions. Ladies shouldn't interrupt. Ladies shouldn't speak too loud._

But that time, she did answer.

“Because we can afford it. We have that luxury.”

 _Luxury_. 

How she hated that word.

What damn luxury?

Georgia only saw a house too big for the two of them. A world too abandoned and desolate to live in. A world with fear, with destruction, with chaos...

If they, who used to have everything, were not like this, how would those who used to have nothing were?

She thought of the boy he met at the store that morning. She thought of the owner. Of Tamaya. Of the children she saw walking the streets of Gatlon, with hollow cheeks and hands looking for something to steal. The girls on the corners. Men in gangs.

Georgia might have some respect for them. Even gang members. She could respect Hugh E. even if he had nearly caused her to be killed.

Those people had nothing. But they had courage.

Georgia didn't believe she and her mother did nothing because they could afford to ignore the bad things that happened around them. It was because they were scared-

“Or because we're cowards,” she answered through clenched teeth.

His mother shot her a deadly look. “Do you think we are cowards?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Her mother went silent. She didn't expect Georgia to talk back. 

_Because ladies shouldn't talk back._

Her mother continued her prayers for a moment longer. Georgia didn't bother to pretend she was praying too. However, she did not get up. It seemed disrespectful to her.

Maybe she was a lady. But she was also a coward. A coward lady. The worst kind of lady.

The woman crossed herself and wiped her knees. “Georgia, look at him,” she asked in a soft voice. Georgia looked up to see the statue. “He takes care of us. He always will. He is brave for us.”

_Isn’t that the same thing people say about Ace Anarchy?_

But her eyes were glassy. And Georgia didn't want to see her mother cry. Not again.

Then, like the lady that she was, she smiled at her and held her hand lovingly. Her mother smiled too. 

White lies. It was just a white lie.

“You're right, Mom,” she mumbled. “It's just… my crazy head. Don’t mind me.”

Her mother stroked her hair lovingly as if she was saying, _“Oh, Georgia, you and your crazy head.”_

Yet Georgia knew that she had never been saner in her life.

She believed that white lie. Could it be that she only chose to believe the ones that help her sleep at night?

“Hey, mom.” His mother lifted her chin a little. “Do we know any… Hugh E?”

She smiled awkwardly. “Yes. He was the mayor of the city. Hugh Everhart, remember? Before all this.”

The memory came so suddenly that she felt it hit her. Tamaya had told him about it. 

The mystery that had been part of their games when they first met.

It could be a coincidence, right?

Or not. Or it could be part of the mystery.

Georgia had never gotten over her childhood craving for mysteries.

“Why?”

“It's just ... Tamaya mentioned that name today and I didn't know who she was talking about,” she replied with a shrug.

His mother nodded. “How is she, by the way?”

“She’s good.”

“I'm glad.”

The woman left her alone. With her books, with her pajamas, and with the abandoned drawing.

Was that what people did when they could do something, but didn’t?

Leave others alone?

She took up the notebook again. _If you find this lost notebook, please return to 4491 Atha Drive._

Georgia knew where that was. It wasn't such a dangerous area (even if her mother said otherwise.) And even if it was… where Tamaya lived was much more dangerous. And Georgia had been around there multiple times without getting hurt.

She looked at herself in the mirror. There was no time to change her clothes, so she grabbed a yellow jacket from her closet, put on her good old sneakers, and she tied her hair up in a mustard yellow scrunchie. 

Georgia didn't look in the mirror again, because something told her that if she did, she would regret what she was about to do.

She opened the window. The cold air made her shiver and she regretted not wearing a more protective jacket. 

Georgia hugged the notebook as her life depended on it.

_Come on Georgia, you've flown before. You have flown long distances before. Do you remember when you visited Tamaya? Or when did you go to see dad at night?_

She remembered. But she hadn’t flown long distances since.

They always left her alone in the end. And that scared her.

_Coward._

She looked at the moon with determination.

No. Georgia Rawles was not a coward.

She jumped out of the window. 

If God didn't protect them, if the whole world left them alone ...

Someone was going to have to defend the outcasts. Someone was going to always have to be there.

And Georgia was going to take on that role.


	7. Nothing is better than superheroes

_ Frankly, I feel insane, _

_ but you say you feel the same, _

_ and suddenly, it’s like, "Hey, I’m not crazy". _

_ Don’t kill me, 'cause I’m just the messenger. _

_ I’ve never seen someone quite this strange before. _

_ You’re just like me, you took all your vitamins. _

_ You’re just like me and you take delight in it. _

**Georgia**

It was very difficult to be in the city at night. There was no light, but she wasn’t sure if it was because almost everyone was sleeping or because there was no electricity in that neighborhood. 

Probably the first thing. It was... a little late.

She had forgotten how good it felt to fly.

In the sky, Georgia was free to do as she pleased. She would flip, shout at the top of her lungs, sing old songs that her father had taught her, curse everything she could not curse anywhere else, and laugh for real.

Anarchy was insignificant when seen from above.

Freedom. That was freedom. And what a sweet taste it had.

She wondered if one day, everyone could taste it.

Finally, she arrived. Or so she thought.

She went down in a tailspin and stopped before touching the ground. After looking around, she realized all the windows were closed and the lights were off.

She was safe.

The mailbox of the house at her right had written over it the number 4480. She looked at the notebook again. It said 4491 Atha Drive.

Close.

The street was empty. She kept flying from there, quietly begging that no woke up for a midnight snack and decided to look through the window. 

It took longer to think that than to get to 4491. It was a pretty small house, blue on the outside, with the window frames and the door painted white. They also had a mailbox, but Georgia was sure it wasn’t big enough for the notebook to fit there.

That house just felt so full of mystery...

The hell with this. She was going to leave it in his room.

Georgia felt like Santa Claus. Or the tooth fairy. Like she was one of those creatures that only children with a lot of imagination believed in. Though she doubted Hugh E. wasn’t one of those kids.

**Hugh**

Simon left before the sun went down. His aunt asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner, but he said his little sister was alone in the house and someone needed to take care of her. Hugh decided to go to his room. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

He left his books on the old wooden table that served as his desk. Hugh felt so angry just thinking about his backpack. It was pretty new. His aunt had saved money to buy it for him and even had a key chain made of corkscrew that Sophie had given him as a gift for being her brother’s best friend. He had been so moved by that gesture…

And the bastards had taken it.

That’s right, he said bastards. So what? 

Hugh wasn’t scared anymore. When they took his backpack, they also took away his fear. Now, Hugh could only feel anger and helplessness.

If only he had fought a little more, if only he had used his powers for what they really were…

Hugh had always known his powers were dangerous. He was old enough to remember how people talked about prodigies before the Age of Anarchy. Prodigies were freaks. Prodigies were dangerous.

And sometimes those messages made him wonder if that’s why his parents didn’t want him. If it was because they thought he would grow and become a danger to everyone around it.

That is why he had spent his whole life trying to be nice to the world, even if the whole world wasn’t nice to him. He wanted to prove to everyone, even himself, that prodigies were not dangerous. Or not all of them.

He knew that if he had used his powers against those particular villains, it would only make him turn into a villain himself.

And Hugh was not a villain. He was never going to be one.

However, he also knew that if he had used his powers against them, he probably would have found Simon before that freaking kid hurt him.

Hugh would have been there for him.

He fixed his gaze on the superhero drawings he had on the wall. Some were from before the Age of Anarchy. He liked to have them next to the newer ones, to feel good about all the progress he had made.

They always made him feel good but that time, they didn’t. They made him feel like an idiot.

He would never be like them. They took the initiative. They did fight a little more. They were themselves even if others didn’t like it.

They didn’t feel like dangerous freaks because they had never been told they were ones. 

Comic book superheroes didn’t have to bottle all the anger fear left when it went away. What could Hugh do with it other than keeping it in the depths of his soul and wait for it to die with him?

He put his hands on one of his drawings.

_ How easy it’s for you. _

**Georgia**

She stayed a few inches above the ground to not make any noise. They didn’t have a fence. She took it as a good sign.

_ Maybe you’re welcome here. _

Georgia flew into the backyard. There was a square window. She approached to make sure it was a boy’s room.

It was late when she realized that it was, in fact, a boy’s room and that this boy, blond, with glasses and wearing blue pajamas, was still awake.

**Hugh**

Just as he was beginning to tear the edges of the sheet of paper, a shadow blocked the moonlight that entered his room.

Hugh turned his back.

A woman in white clothes and a yellow jacket floated across his window, looking at him as if she were the one who was surprised by him.

She was hugging a red notebook. His notebook.

He didn’t even notice it was missing.

Hugh opened the window. The woman backed away slightly frightened. However, as soon as she looked into his eyes, she recovered immediately.

She gave him the notebook. There was a piece of paper between its pages. He opened it and realized it was his drawing, but it was no longer broken like the last time he saw it.

The woman had taped it back together with strawberry washi-tape.

He never thought something like this would make him feel almost as happy as his drawings did. 

Hugh looked up to thank her and recognized her immediately. It was the girl from the store.

The moonlight made her look like...

There was no other explanation. She just had to be that.

She could not be just a girl.

**Georgia**

The boy was the first to speak. “Are you an angel?”

Georgia cringed a little. Of course that boy would believe in angels.

She laughed under her breath. “No. I am not.”

He turned his head slightly. “Then what are you?”

And it sounded like he really didn’t understand who or what Georgia was.

_ It’s okay. I’m also having a hard time understanding who or what are you. _

“I am a...”

Georgia began to look for an answer inside her head.

_ Just invent something, Georgia. _

“I am a superhero.”

The boy smiled at her, but not as he had smiled at the Roach that afternoon. It was more like he was smiling at an ally. To an acquaintance. Or an old friend.

It was a prettier smile.

“That’s better. There’s nothing better than superheroes. You know why I know that?”

_ More mystery. _

She shook her head. “Why?”

“Because I am a superhero too.”

Georgia smiled back at him. _ But of course you’re a prodigy, Hugh E. Of course you are. _

She was beginning to understand him. And he seemed to be beginning to understand her, too.

**Hugh**

It took him a while to remember his manners. “My name is Hugh, by the way,” he said offering his hand.

_ Don’t squeeze it too hard. _

The woman shook his hand. “I know. I saw it in your notebook.”

He felt he was turning a little red, but her nervous laughter calmed him down a bit. “My name is Georgia. Georgia Rawles.”

“How did you find me, Georgia?”

Georgia took the notebook and showed him the inside of the cover. “You wrote your address here.”

“Oh, I see.” He suddenly remembered that day. Simon had been in a particularly good mood. He had liked that. Simon wasn’t always in a good mood. “Maybe I should stop putting my personal information in my notebooks.”

“On the contrary, I think you should do it more often,” she replied. “What’s going to happen when you lose a notebook again?”

He shrugged and laughed.

“Hey. And what’s this comic about?”

At first, he was very surprised that a girl wanted to know what a comic was about. However, he gradually realized that what actually surprised him was that she didn’t read comics.

“You don’t read comics?”

“No. I’m more of a book person. Mysteries, crime novels, and so on.”

“I don’t read,” he confessed.

Georgia thought for a moment. “I think comics count as reading.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes, I heard it once in class,” she clarified.

Despite the darkness of the night, Hugh noticed that Georgia trembled slightly. That jacket wasn’t protecting her from the October cold at all.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked.

Georgia raised her eyebrows. “Does your mom let you have girls in the room?” she asked with a trembling voice.

“I don’t know what my mom would say, but my aunt is asleep.” He got out of bed to make room for her when it happened. “Come in.”

Georgia suddenly looked slightly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I didn’t remember— I didn’t know about your mom.”

“Ah! No, it’s— Come in, seriously.”

Finally, she agreed to it. The cold got to her. It was all right; he didn’t like the cold either.

Hugh rushed to turn on the light. Georgia closed the window and pulled the curtains.

He immediately regretted not cleaning his room a little better. It wasn’t that messy, but it definitely could be better. Girls were more delicate with that stuff, weren’t they?

At least it wasn’t Simon’s room.

She looked at the drawings and then to her right. “Is that...  _ the  _ comic?” and pointed to a bunch of comics he had on his nightstand.

_ The  _ comic. He knew what she was talking about.

“That is the one,” he replied. He took it and showed her the broken back cover. “See?” Georgia shuddered. Hugh doubted it was because of the cold, but he asked her anyway, “Would you like me to give you an extra jacket?”

“No, I mean... I’m fine,” she muttered. “It’s just... well, this afternoon was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?”

_ Pretty crazy _ didn’t even begin to describe how the afternoon had been.

But Hugh didn’t have the time or the words to explain it to her. He wished he did though.

“It was pretty crazy,” he recognized. “Were you scared?”

She took the comic book and started flipping through it. “But tell me... what are these comics about?”

Hugh sat next to her. “They’re about this guy Aaron who has hydrokinesis-powers.”

“He controls the water?”

“Yep. He is a prodigy. Although they never say that word in the entire comic book.” Georgia nodded, interested in that detail. “And he hides it from everyone. But then one day he goes to the beach, he meets a mysterious old man who gives him a silver spear because he is the chosen one who’ll save the world of the ocean and the land. Wonder Man accepts and every time he takes the spear and says the magic words, the spear gives him a super-suit and his powers become stronger. And all goes well during the first numbers, until at the end of the number before this one—” he raised the comic book over his head “—that old man, who became his tutor, reveals to him something... shocking.”

Hugh went quiet all of a sudden. He forgot he didn’t know if Georgia wanted him to tell her everything or if she was just being nice.

But Georgia looked genuinely intrigued. “What happened?” she asked, frowning. “What was the shocking revelation?”

_ I can see you like mysteries, lady. _

“Ah, well... Wonder Man wasn’t the chosen one,” he replied, raising his feet to the bed. “There are many other people like him all over the world. Only that he was the first to accept the proposal.”

Georgia covered her mouth with one hand. “Wow. Brutal.”

“Yes, he didn’t take it well,” Hugh continued. “He felt betrayed because now there was nothing to make him special. And that made him miserable so he stopped being Wonder Man. But then Ace Anarchy came out of the darkness—”

“Ace Anarchy?” Georgia asked.

She wasn’t confused at all. She was... nervous.

Although less than a normal person would be if they heard that infamous name.

_ Interesting. _

“Yes, the one and only,” he said quietly. “And he went and killed his tutor. Wonder Man found him when he was bleeding out on the floor. His tutor apologized for lying to him.”

“But... why did he lie to him?” she wanted to know. “Why didn’t he tell him the truth from the start?”

Hugh remembered the page number where that happened. He looked for it and read it out loud. “I wanted to know if you had what it took to be a hero, Aaron. I had to know.”

Georgia took the comic.

“And do I?” she asked reading Wonder Man’s dialogue.

Hugh felt chills. That question had felt so real.

He didn’t need to read from the comic book to know what followed that line. “That’s a question you need to answer by yourself, Aaron. Do you have what it takes to be a hero?”

Georgia turned the page and Hugh was able to visualize perfectly what she was seeing because it was something he had seen hundreds of times since he had bought that number. 

Wonder Man stood up and came out of the cave where his tutor lived, with his spear covered in the blood. He lifted it to the moon and the waves of the sea began to rise.

“And here it says: 'Yes, I do'” Georgia read. She closed the comic book somewhat violently. “It doesn’t make sense. What a stupid mystery.”

Hugh was slightly offended. Just...  _ slightly _ . “Why do you say that?”

“How did he know he has what it takes to be a hero?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, shrugging. “He just… knew.”

Georgia sighed. That wasn't the answer she was expecting and Hugh knew it. But he wasn't quite sure what else to say to her.

He supposed they were going to explain it in the next number. Only there was never going to be a next number.

Hugh wasn't going to lie: he felt a little bad that he couldn't give Georgia an explanation. He couldn't even give it to himself.

“How did you know you have what it takes to be a hero?”

He turned to see her. Had he heard her right?

Since Georgia didn't say anything else, he assumed he did.

Yes, he had heard right.

A few hours ago, he would have been more flattered than ever. But in those moments, he just said, “Me? I don't think I am a hero. I think you are though.”

“Me a hero?!” she asked. She also wanted to make sure she was listening well. “Really?”

Well, at least she was flattered “Really!” Hugh assured her. “You came all this way to give me back my notebook, and you fixed my drawing, and you talked to me ... That is pretty heroic.”

“Well, that's funny because... seriously, I think you are the hero here.”

Hugh was still asking the same question. “But why?”

“You stood up to those villains this afternoon!” Georgia exclaimed pointing at him. “You were the only one who said no to them and who wasn’t scared of them at all. That is pretty heroic.”

Hugh was overcome by the urge to smile. Georgia smiled more, showing that she wasn't backing off her words.

Well… he had to admit that maybe there was something heroic about what he had done, even if it didn’t go the way he wanted.

However, he couldn't take all the credit.

“Maybe we're both heroic.”

“You think so?”

Was she starting to stop believing it?

_ Not on my watch. _

"I think so," he replied, grabbing his pillow and putting it on his lap. Distracted, he began to fiddle with the thread from his gray-striped sheath. “I have a friend. He's pretty heroic too. It’s just that… he can’t see himself as such.”

_ But I believe in him for both of us. _

“I get that friend of yours,” she replied. “Sometimes things are not that simple. I also have a friend who doesn’t see herself the way I see her.”

“As someone heroic?” he wanted to know.

Georgia thought about it for a bit and then just smiled. “Yeah, let's put it that way.”

He wondered if it would be wise to ask her a little more about it but immediately imagined Simon next to him kicking him to shut him up in the most discreet way he could think of.

“Do you know if he beat Ace Anarchy in the end?” she asked.

Hugh shook his head with an apologetic smile. Although he knew it wasn't his fault he couldn't beat him.

The only one responsible for Wonder Man not being able to defeat Ace Anarchy… was Ace Anarchy himself.

“I imagined it, ” Georgia murmured. “But—”

She bit her lip before finishing the sentence.

_ Do you want to say what I think you want to say? _

He moved a little closer to her. “But what?”

Georgia looked him straight in the eye. She had a huge hopeful smile when she asked:

“But what if we did?”

Thinking about it was one thing.

But hearing someone else say it, with the same desire to believe it as him, was something a thousand times better.

He threw the pillow on the floor and took Georgia by the shoulders. “That was exactly what I was gonna say!” he exclaimed.

He immediately reminded himself to lower his voice. He didn't want to wake his aunt up.

Hugh removed his hands from Georgia's shoulders and hid them behind him. Georgia was kind of amused.

She stifled her laughter with her hand. “Jinx,” and she offered him her pinky.

Hugh found that gesture adorable.  _ Girls are really nice.  _ “Jinx,” and laced his pinky through hers. “No, but seriously, do you really think so?”

He just wanted to make sure one last time. Just one last time before he completely believed in her.

She got serious again. “I want to believe someone has to do something about it,” she sighed. “And I am tired of never being that someone. I want to be that someone. I want to do something about it.”

_ Yes. Yes to everything you say, Georgia. It is true. _

_ I also think that. _

“Me too, Georgia, me too!” he exclaimed, putting his hand on her fist. “Georgia, I also want to be that someone! We could be that someone! The three of us!”

Her smile didn't fade, but it tensed a bit. “Three?”

“My friend. I'm including my friend,” he explained.

Georgia relaxed. “Oh sure, sure. Okay, but we're going to be four because I'm including my friend too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

And he meant it.

Four prodigies against Ace Anarchy.

Suddenly, things didn't look so complicated.

“So… are you saying we can like… get together here to plan our next move against this cruel world?” Georgia asked him.

Hugh was about to say "yes" when he remembered his aunt. If she found four people gathered in her living room, Hugh would have to give a lot of explanations that he wasn't prepared to give.

_ Hello, aunt, we are planning to destroy the status quo. _

She would surely laugh at them, tell them to stop trying to be heroes, and kick out Simon, Georgia, and their friend. And Hugh would never get the chance to be a hero again.

He loved his family very much. But he couldn't risk his chance like that.

Someday he was going to tell her. However, for the moment it was better to keep the secret.

He could keep a secret.

But then where are we going to meet?

A light bulb went on above his head.

That place was perfect.

“Yes, we’re getting together to plan our next move against this cruel world,” he replied, getting off the bed. "Just not here”

He took a pen and tore a page out of his notebook. Georgia tried to look over her shoulder as he wrote down an address. Then it occurred to him that perhaps he could give her a… little gift.

To thank her for returning his things.

He drew a quick doodle of Wonder Man smiling at them, doing finger guns with one hand and holding the silver spear in the other. A text bubble came out of his mouth, asking them: "Do you have what it takes to be a hero?"

Hugh knew they did.

Even if he wasn't sure what it was.

He quickly wrote “This Friday, 6:30 am” and handed the folded paper to Georgia. “4480 Atha Drive,” she read. “It's pretty close from here.”

"Yeah, it's my friend's address,” he answered. “I bet he won’t mind. His dad leaves his house before we go to school. So we’ll be safe.”

Georgia stared at the paper, looking at it a little… worried. “Hugh... you are going to be there, aren't you?”

Hugh scoffed. “Why wouldn't I?”

She shrugged.

“Would you like a guarantee? Because… Look—” he took his blue hoodie from over the chair and handed it to her “—my favorite and only hoodie. It is very warm, although it does not seem like it. Maybe more than yours. Put it on, and that way you won't get a cold when you get home. You can return it to me when we meet again.”

Georgia put it on. It fitted her perfectly. “How chivalrous of you,” she said. “I'll give back to you on Friday then.”

“Friday will be.”

On Friday. Everything was going to change on Friday.

Everything was finally going to change.

Georgia stood up and floated to the window. Hugh stared at her from his bed.

“Hey,” he called her. When she turned around, he offered her his pinky. “We're going to be heroes, lady. I believe in us.”

Before leaving, Georgia laced her pinky through his, looking at their joined hands as if they were the most precious thing in the world. “I believe in us too, captain. I believe in us too.”

And how good it felt to have someone believe in them as much as he did.


	8. Getting cold hands?

_ Now I understand what you tried to say to me, _

_ and how you suffered for your sanity, _

_ and how you tried to set them free. _

_ They would not listen, they did not know how; _

_ perhaps they'll listen now. _

**Simon**

“YOU DID  _ WHAT _ ?”

Hugh put his hand over his mouth to shut him up and Simon felt his cheeks turn red when he realized a couple of older boys had turned to see why the hell he was yelling. Their faces contorted in disgust and continued with their chat.

Because prodigies were disgusting.

He immediately regretted his decision to come back to school.

Hugh removed his hand from his mouth. “Don't be mad at me,” he whispered.

“I'm not mad at you,” he replied in a lower voice, “it's just that I'm surprised you did something so impulsive and so, so… so _stupid_.”

Hugh bit his lip but couldn't hide his laugh. “Wow, Simon, watch your language.”

He kicked him to silence him. “I am serious,” he replied. “You gave my address to a complete stranger—"

“Georgia.”

“—To make a plan for which we have no ideas—"

“I do have many ideas.”

“—and who will bring a friend we don't know.”

Simon went silent, waiting for Hugh to answer with the friend's name. But he did not.

That only further proved his point. “From the beginning, your plan was very wrong.”

_ And I should have been there to warn you. _

“No, my plan was golden from the beginning,” Hugh argued, “because Georgia is not a stranger. I met her at _ Joe’s Basket _ and she turned out to be a really nice girl. She likes mystery novels, wears white pajamas to sleep, and can fly. I consider that a very specific profile.”

“I consider her a stranger. You don’t even know her last name.”

“Rawles.”

“Does she has a middle name?”

Hugh ignored him completely. “If you just had heard her speak, Simon. She was absolutely right about everything,” he continued. “Georgia is a good person. She returned my notebook even though she didn't have to. And look what she did.”

Discreetly, he took a sheet of paper out of his back pocket. It was the drawing he had been working on a couple of days ago.  _ Propaganda _ . “She repaired my drawing with washi-tape. It’s… kind of pretty, isn’t it?”

It was the most adorable washi-tape Simon had ever seen. “Too girly,” he growled.

“Girly? The— the washi-tape?”

“Yes,” Simon answered. “It’s too girly. I don’t like it.”

“Oh, no, I don’t like it either,” Hugh answered. “I just thought the contrast was… funny.” 

Simon said nothing more. Hugh put the drawing back before anyone else saw it. “Look, that’s what would make us a great team. We all have different strengths. And also… she’s a girl. An older girl. And she likes Wonder Man.”

Simon decided to draw the line there. To hell with her pretty washi-tape. “Why does it matter she’s an older girl who likes Wonder Man? I like Wonder Man too.”

Hugh adjusted his glasses, confused. “But… you don’t like it,” he reminded him. “You say Wonder Man is an idiot.”

_ I do say that. _

“What I mean is,” he said evasively, “like ... I mean, what does strengths does she has? Because being a girl is not one of them.”

“Her vision,” she replied. “She has a way of seeing things that are surely different from ours. Not just because she's a girl, but also because I bet she has experienced the world in a way we haven't and has more experience with certain things that could help us. How many times have we talked to someone who isn’t part of the school?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “We don't talk to anyone at school,” he muttered.

_ They hate us. They really hate us. _

_ Or do they fear us? _

_ Is there a difference? _

“Well, when have we talked to someone... other than the two of us? Or your dad, or your sister—” and he smiled playfully “—or my aunt.”

He immediately realized he was trying to make him laugh. But at that point in the conversation, Simon was fed up with the entire female gender and he wasn’t even willing to smile at him.

Hugh hugged himself. For some reason, he was not wearing a jacket that day... “Where’s your jacket?” he asked in a soft voice.

“I gave it to Georgia,” he replied. “The one she had didn't protect her from the cold.”

Then Simon remembered that they were arguing and that Hugh was an idiot who gave his address to strangers and did not deserve his compassion. “Well, it's her fault. Why does she wear a jacket that looks cools but doesn't protect you from the cold?”

“Maybe she’s… passionate about fashion?” he said, half-joking.

Simon didn't find it funny. “Maybe she puts fashion above basic needs.”

Hugh realized that it was useless to keep trying to make him laugh. He put his hands in his pants pockets. “Simon…” He glanced at him. “You... that someone you mentioned last time—“

“What’s with that someone?” he asked sharply.

“That someone still wants me to believe in him, right?”

At that moment, Simon realized that throughout the entire conversation, he had had his arms crossed as if he were throwing a tantrum.

Stars. How childish Simon looked. And how worried Hugh looked.

The last thing he wanted to do was worry him.

Simon wasn't even quite sure why he was reacting like that. Like, of course, he had been annoyed that Hugh had made a move without first consulting him, especially one involving his home.

However, it didn't take long for him to realize that that other emotion he felt, in addition to the obvious annoyance, was  _ fear _ . Fear that he was going to leave him for that new  _ friend  _ he had made. Which he knew didn't make sense because Hugh wasn't the one who abandoned others.

That one was Simon. Simon had abandoned him the other day.

Simon was the bad person here. 

He leaned against the wall. “Yes...” he acknowledged. “That someone still needs you to believe in him.”

_ Because that someone needs you maybe a little too much. _

Hugh seemed suddenly calmer. “Good,” he sighed. “I was starting to get a little worried.”

“Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize.”

“Sorry,” he repeated.

“Simon, stop.”

But he couldn't. “Sorry.”

Hugh just laughed and leaned against the wall too. “Well, you know, since we're on the apology thing… I'm sorry I didn't consult you before giving the address to someone who is a stranger. For you,” he added quickly. Simon kicked him. _ I told you that she is a stranger.  _ “It's just that… I got excited. I have never met someone like Georgia.”

Simon nodded and felt a lump in his throat. He knew what Hugh was talking about.

He had never met someone who believed in themselves because the only person Hugh hung out with was Simon, and Simon…

Simon didn't believe in anything. Not even himself.

“Are you sure we can trust her?” he asked in a small voice.

“She promised me he would be there,” he replied. “And I had to promise her that I would be there too. Simon… can you promise me that too?”

Simon scoffed. “You will be at my house.”

“You know what I mean—“ he tapped his hand with two fingers. “Can you promise me you'll be there?” he repeated.

Simon ignored the feelings that light touch gave him.

He had always been good at ignoring.

So he nodded.

The bell rang and the few students in the courtyard began to enter. Hugh chattered his teeth and hugged himself again.

“You are cold, right?” Simon asked him.

Simon didn't want to go to class yet. He wished he could stay out a while longer. Simon loved cold days because he could put on a lot of layers of clothing and people saw less of him.

But the truth was that he didn't want to go to class yet because he wanted to stay talking with his friend a bit longer.

Even if he made him angry.

“I’m freezing,” he answered. “Look, feel my hands.”

He put a hand on his cheek. Simon could feel his face turning all red again.

_ Ignore it, ignore it. _

“Yes. They’re cold,” he answered.

“Told you. Cold can’t kill me, but is surely a pain in the ass.”

Simon gave him a lopsided smile, trying not to look like he was doing his best not to imagine…  _ that _ .

_ Don’t think about his ass. _

In a desperate attempt to distract his mind, he searched his pockets for the gloves his father told him last night to wear when leaving the house. He stood up and handed them to Hugh. “Put them on. I don't like wearing gloves anyway.”

They headed for the school entrance while Hugh struggled to put them on. They were a little too small for him, but if he didn't move his hands a lot they would surely cover them well. “Thank you,” he mumbled with a smile.

Simon shrugged. It was the least he could do.

The rest of the day, he was the one whose hands were freezing because his school had no heating since always. Yet the thought that Hugh was wearing them and that his hands were warm made him better able to ignore the cold.

That and the fact his cheeks were still red.

_ I'm not abandoning you again, Hugh. _

_ I’d rather be dead. _

**Georgia**

When she arrived, she did not make her classic introduction. She didn't say _ "Honey, I'm home!"  _ nor did she hold Molly in her arms and ask her how school went. She only greeted Tamaya, gave her the bag with the few provisions that she could offer her, and dropped onto her mattress.

It was more comfortable than one would expect to. She didn't understand why Tamaya said it was uncomfortable.

Tamaya didn't seem to notice that change. And if she did, she said nothing. Georgia would dare to say that she was just as quiet as her.

She lay down beside Georgia. They were shoulder to shoulder, staring at the old roof of the abandoned store. Tamaya fiddled with her broken locket.

“Who goes first?” Georgia asked leaning on her shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Who tells her problem first,” she clarified.

“Oh.” Tamaya dropped her locket. “You. You go first.”

Georgia wanted to refuse. She knew that if she started talking, there would probably be no one able to stop her. And it was already difficult to get Tamaya to open up…

But she had to tell someone. She couldn't hold that secret inside her for another second.

She turned to see her. “I met someone.”

Tamaya did the same. “Someone?”

“A boy.”

“A boy,” she repeated. Sharply.

“Not like that,” she clarified quickly. “He's a literal boy. So yeah. It would be kinda gross, to be honest.”

Tamaya relaxed her expression. Only a little. “What did he do to you?” she asked.

“Stars, Tamaya,” Georgia laughed. “He did nothing to me. But he gave me this.”

She reached into the pocket of her jeans. Georgia hated wearing jeans because her legs were too wide and she could never find jeans that actually fit her. However, that day all her skirts were too dirty to wear. And she also had to keep that paper in a safe place.

They both straightened up as Georgia unfolded the paper with her fingers.

_ It's made of glass, Georgia. Like your hopes. Like the future of the world. _

_ Be very careful. _

She opened it without breaking it and passed it to Tamaya.

To a very confused Tamaya.

_ It's made of glass, Tam. Please don't break it. _

“Is this his address?” she asked, confused.

“No, it's his friend's address.”

Tamaya crumpled the piece of paper rolling her eyes. “What the hell do you want to tell me, Georgia?”

“Be careful!” she screeched, snatching it away.

She put it on her leg and began to try to flatten it with all the strength of her hand. Luckily she had rescued it in time...

_ It’s made of glass! It’s made of glass! _

Tamaya hid between her wings. Immediately, Georgia could recognize what he was trying to tell her by that.

She was afraid. Altered. She didn't like being yelled at.

And Georgia knew it. “Sorry...” she mumbled.

Tamaya nodded.

Why did she have to be so loud?

“Tamaya... who are you?” she asked.

Tamaya rolled her eyes. “I think you just answered your own question,” she mumbled, annoyed.

“No, I mean ... what are we?” she asked. “Look where we are—” she pointed around her “—look where we ended up.”

“I don't know if it's time for you to make me feel bad about where I live.”

“No! It's not that, Tamaya, it's just that…”

And she stopped.

“Is it just what?”

The same question was in her head.

_ What's your excuse now, Georgia? _

She fought the urge to cry that suddenly washed over her. “It's just that I haven't stopped wondering if we've been on the right side of history,” she replied, standing up. “And it's something that I hadn't really asked myself until yesterday, you know? Until they gave me this address.”

Tamaya's shoulders hunched more. She was still hidden behind its wings.

_ Jeez, Georgia, can't you lower your voice a bit? _

Georgia knelt beside her friend and put a hand on her shoulder. She did not reject her or bite her.  _ Good _ . “Tamaya, what are we?” she insisted. “Are we women?”

“Well... yes,” she replied with a frown. “Or at least you are.”

“No, Tamaya, I am not a woman. I'm a girl,” Georgia said. “I am a girl who continues to live in the fantasy world that she designed to survive all the trauma she went through. It doesn't matter I have grown physically, on the inside… on the inside all I have done is hide my head between my books and my dolls and your friendship, because I am too much of a coward to do anything for the outside world.”

She covered her mouth with her hands as she turned her back to her.  _ Don't cry, don't you dare cry. _

Georgia did not cry.

Tamaya stood up. “Are you... are you okay?”

“Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “All good. You? Are you okay? Do you forgive me for yelling at you?”

She did not reply. For a second, Georgia thought she was going to hug her. How childish of her to think that. Tamaya never hugged people. She didn't know how to do it.

So Georgia hugged herself.

She always hugged herself. There was no one left to do it.

“I still do not understand—”

“These kids—” she showed her the slip of paper “—these kids are not cowards. And they are children. How are they braver than us? What has happened in their lives that have made them so brave?”

Tamaya pushed her fist away from her face. Georgia had accidentally put the paper on her to just below his nose.

She looked into Tamaya's eyes and realized that many things had happened to her in her life that had made her brave. Because yes, Tamaya was brave for the sole fact of her existence.

Tamaya was born with wings, which although Georgia found them wonderful, for her they were the constant reminder of everything that was “wrong” with her. Her parents despised her, she lived locked in a cage, like...

Like a real bird.

But Tamaya was not a bird. Or a monster, as she called herself. She was none of those things. She was a woman.

And a brave one. Georgia wished she could see herself the way she saw her. 

No, there was nothing wrong with Tamaya. Who was wrong was the rest of the world.

And that world was so different from the one Georgia had created when she was little. One that writhed in pain and hurt whoever dared to help it. Georgia was so scared of pain.

But she was more afraid of continuing being the coward in the story.

_ Coward. Coward. Coward. _

Last night, intoxicated by the smell of vanilla and the taste of freedom, it had seemed easy. As if giving the notebook back to a child was going to make the difference the world needed at that moment.

However, as the effects of adrenaline left her body and Hugh began to speak more and more, she realized that things were more complicated than she had initially imagined. That a simple act of kindness was not going to take away the suffering from the world in which she lived. She wished it did though.  _ I want to help you, but I'm not sure how. _

Was she going to have to take the pain for the world?

_ Coward. Coward. Coward. _

She turned to see her friend again. “Tamaya, I want to stop being a girl,” she whispered, taking her by the shoulders. “I want to stop being a coward that hides in her own imaginary world.”

Tamaya grabbed her wrists. “And what do you want to be then?”

“I want to be a woman,” she replied. “One that goes out into the real world and does something to save it.”

She nodded. Georgia decided to venture out to ask her a new question. “What do you want to be, Tamaya?”

Tamaya held on tighter to her.

Although she wasn't hurting her Georgia wondered if she was holding her tighter so she wouldn't hurt herself. “I just know I want to stop being a monster, Georgia.”

Georgia wrapped her in a hug. Tamaya reciprocated by surrounding her with her wings.

_ Yes. This is better than a hug. _

Then a putrid smell suddenly hit her. She discreetly sniffed Tamaya's body. It wasn't her.

Good. She wasn't quite sure where she could have found a soap that could remove  _ that _ .

"What’s that smell?" she asked.

There was a foam plate right behind her friend. Georgia broke away from the hug and took the foam plate in her hands. She opened it, and the retching she felt was enough to make her realize that it had been a horrible decision.

The smell was of rotten fried rice. “Tamaya!” she screamed “Why do you have this here? It's disgusting.”

Tamaya came up behind her and closed the foam plate. The scent lingered in her nostrils still, but Tamaya seemed unaffected. “It is my reminder.”

She sounded so distant, so empty...

Had she sounded like that?

She put the foam plate at the other end of the room quickly. When she returned, Tamaya was sitting on the mattress, hugging her legs. Georgia took Molly and held her out. Tamaya took her doll and put it on her lap.

Georgia sat next to her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tamaya shook her head. She undid one of Molly's braids and started doing it again. “Give me ideas.”

“Ideas for what?”

“Ideas for what I could be. I don't know anything else.”

Georgia undid Molly's other braid. “How about... being a superhero?”


End file.
